


Somewhere I have never traveled

by o0Anapher0o



Series: The Color of its Countries [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Culture, Cardassian courting, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Not beta-canon compliant, Post-Canon Cardassia, Rebuilding, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, slow burn?, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 68,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27654491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0Anapher0o/pseuds/o0Anapher0o
Summary: It took almost a year after the war, before the new Cardassian interim government allowed aid workers on their destroyed planet, accepting the Federation’s offer for help. Garak and Bashir had stayed in contact as well as they could, which ironically comes to a stop the moment Julian sets foot on Cardassia. Communications on Prime are still spotty at the best of times. But Garak wouldn’t be Garak if he let his friend fall out of reach when they’re finally on the same planet again.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: The Color of its Countries [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2022044
Comments: 270
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my take on the Julian-goes-to-Cardassia fic. It’s ballooned a little beyond what I initially intended, and then some. You’re looking at part one of what will eventually be three.  
> I’m completely ignoring all beta cannon (mostly because I haven’t read any). Kelas Parmak shows up, mostly because he already existed and had a connection to Garak. His character, however, is completely my creation based on what I know of him in the show (and the romance angle just doesn’t sit well with me based on that). I also probably criminally underuse him. 
> 
> Disclaimers: I don’t own Star Trek or any associated characters, events, planets etc. though I have no idea who does at this point in time. Give it a few years it’ll probably be Disney (there’s a horrible thought).  
> I use some Cardassian words, mostly for terms and concepts that don’t have an appropriate translation in English (I hope the meaning will be clear in the text, but I’ll put ‘translations’ in the endnotes just in case). Those terms are mostly based on what I found in the English-Kardassi Dictionary by tinsnip, Vyc et.al. (Version 2015; EKD in the following notes). I had a lot of fun messing around with that, though I probably mangled the grammar terribly.  
> The words ‘anshwar’, ‘pur nim’ and ‘ss’avi’ are by AuroraNova. I borrowed those and gave them a bit of my own twist.  
> Title from an E.E. Cummings poem.  
> I don’t have a beta. If anyone would like to volunteer or just (gently) point out the most annoying errors, please let me know.

Before coming to Cardassia, Julian had never appreciated just how different this world was on a very fundamental level from pretty much everything he was used to. He had of course known a few Cardassians, had known books and some food. He had been aware that this species had a very unique outlook on the universe, but he had always thought of that as cultural and social differences mostly. He had not anticipated that, from the moment he sat foot on Cardassia Prime, he would feel like up was down, in was out and left was right in way too many ways. And it wasn’t even the people, nor the still very obvious desolation and destruction, but the planet itself that seemed to defy any convention, anything he had previously assumed to know. Starting with the simple fact that here day was night.

In hindsight it should have been obvious to him that Cardassians were nocturnal. Garak had often enough complained about the too bright lights on DS9. How else could they have gotten used to such low levels of light? And given the temperatures during the day it made perfect sense. But somehow the possibility had never occurred to him until the moment he had arrived on the planet about one Standard hour after prime sunset and had been expected to get to work right away.

Of course night in on itself was relative. On a planet with two suns and three moons even night was similar to a gloomy December day in England more often then not. It was never anywhere near as dark as nights were on Earth or many other planets. And of course, there was chita’pey, the untranslatable third daytime of the second sun which was neither ta’, the light time, nor prisok’pey, the "moon time", but usually part of both. Julian had not yet experienced the one glorious day of the year in which the planets orbit let it exactly between both suns so either one of them was in the sky at any time during one rotation. Apparently it was an important holiday for Cardassians. Not that it meant anyone would go out during ta’ even then.

“You don’t want to work during the day.” one of his Federation colleagues, a Haliian, had told Julian on his second night on Prime. “Even the Cardassians bolt their doors and seal the shutters when the sun is up. As much as they can these days, at least.”

It hadn’t taken Julian long to understand the truth in that. The nights were warm, hot to his own human body, but the days where scorching, hot enough even for Cardassians to avoid exposure to direct sunlight. About half the Federation aid workers that had come to the planet were physically unable to be outside during the day for more than a few minutes, humans among them. Vulcans where particularly sought after because of that, especially in the medical fields where emergency personnel had to be available during all hours. Like everything on Cardassia they were in short supply and the hospitals took what, or in this case whoever they could get.

Medical volunteers spend the first twenty days of their stay in the main hospital in what was left of the capital, before being distributed all over the planet. It had been determined that the understaffed medical centres couldn’t be expected to hold the hands of newcomers who had often little experience and almost never any knowledge of fundamental Cardassian physiognomy, so they were given basic training in the Capital where people were already used to Federaji who didn’t know anything.

Thanks to his augmented brain and his previous experience in treating Cardassians, which, he was told by his supervisor, made him quite unique, Julian was sent on his posting in a town called Umpar in one of the Southern provinces, after only five days in the capital. On his second night he had nearly passed out form a heat stroke himself, working way too long into the merciless glare of ta’. He was one of only two doctors in the med centre there and they had been swamped as the roof of the former town hall collapsed. The building had been one of the few in the area that had previously gone relatively undamaged, or so it had been thought at least, so it had been used to house nearly fifty people. Luckily most had been out working when the roof had caved in but they still had had more patients than they could handle.

Heat induced illnesses where in fact high on the list of things Julian had to treat on Cardassia. The Cardassian body could withstand much in terms of temperature, much more than humans, but the 55+ degrees of a day during the dry season (which the UT had stubbornly insisted on translating to ‘winter’) were hard even on them. Before the war the people would, just like the Haliian doctor had implied, lock themselves in their homes, usually sturdy, well insulated buildings that kept the heat out and in modern times usually had excellent climate control, where they slept the day away. Now that most houses where destroyed or damaged and energy in short supply, most of them offered only imperfect protection from the blazing heat. In addition to that the dust, even more than a year after the dominion bombardment still heavily in the air, caused respiratory difficulties, the lack of clean, drinkable water and malnutrition all contributed to rendering the people even less able to deal with the sun. All of the above made for excellent conditions for all kinds of diseases and illnesses that wouldn’t have occurred on a healthy planet and wouldn’t have been a big deal if they had. Here and now, all kinds of supplies, medications in particular, where sparse and Julian had seen people die of something as simple as a sepsis, conditions he hadn’t ever expected to encounter outside of history books before.

Julian stayed in that village only for about two months before he was called back to the capital. He had been surprised, but not much. After half a year the Federation relief effort was well organised and had found a sort of routine, so he had assumed if they rotated their staff there would be a method to it.

That his assumption had been wrong dawned on him when, at his return to the capital, he was ordered to the office of the head administrator, a Grazerite named Herem-Tejo. The man studied him closely before starting to speak and Julian, not familiar enough with their species to read his expression, found it difficult to asses if he was in trouble or not.

“We have been made aware, that you have a friend on Cardassia, Dr Bashir.” Herem-Tejo finally said. “A Cardassian friend.” he added for clarification. Ah.

“Yes, he used to live on Deep Space Nine and returned to Cardassia after the war.” Julian explained.

“Have you been in contact?”

“Not since I left the station. I told him I’d be coming here and I have tried to find out about him when I arrived. But with communications being what they are around here I haven’t been able to contact him.”

The Grazerite gave him an appraising look, clearly trying to assess if he was telling the truth. “Well, it appears your friend has found you at least.” he said finally.

Julia hid a smile. Of course he had, he should have expected Garak would know it as soon as he set foot on his planet.

Herem-Tejo continued: “He seems to have quite a bit of influence, your friend. He has requested your transfer to a clinic in the Torr district and we’ve been asked by the interim government to comply. You’ll start there tomorrow.”

Julian wasn’t sure if he should be happy or incensed that Garak would use his influence to have him transferred to what Julian assumed was where he was. After having seen the state of the planet, he felt he should be where he was needed most, no matter that he wanted to see his friend again. Apart from that he was a little surprised. He didn’t know about that district, but in his messages Garak had always implied that he was somehow doing administrative work in some official capacity. Cardassia did have what was commonly known as an interim government, but it was largely an administrative body. A counsel of ministers co-ordinated the re-building efforts. They mostly made the rules for the district administrators, the pur nims, who where responsible for distributing rations, maintain order in their district and had to realise the plans of the ministers. It was too much power for one person to wield in Julian’s mind, but at least the pur nims were elected by the districts inhabitants. He wasn’t entirely sure how the ministers had gotten their positions. It had been implied that there would be a restructuring of the government, possibly even a constitution at some point, when mere survival wasn’t the foremost concern anymore, but no one was entirely sure when that would be, or who decided when it was. Currently the planet was firmly in the hands of the pur nim, barely in check from the ministers.

The majority of the government however consisted of clerks and civil servants, who worked largely independently from the counsel or the districts. Cardassians loved organised and structured processes and stuck to them even in the ruins of their world. Somehow Julian had always figured this would be where he’d find Garak and had consequentially assumed he’d be living in the capital.

“The Torr district?” he asked.

Herem-Tejo nodded. “Yes, it’s about 30 kilometres south of here. Used to be a suburb of the capital, but everything between here and there has been pretty much annihilated in the bombing. Since they’re still relatively close to the capital they haven’t been given much priority yet. There is a clinic there, according to my information, but they have only one Doctor, a Cardassian male and one or two nurses.”

Julian’s eyes widened. So they did need help. It was true, 30 kilometres was close compared to most other districts, but considering there were still barely any means of travel it was easily around a days worth of a journey. Too far for medical emergencies, if they didn’t have working communication.

Julian nodded, now determined.

“I’ll be on my way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Cardassians aren’t canonically nocturnal (for all we know), but I also know that what we do see of Cardassia Prime in the shows is ridiculously bright for a species that’s supposedly very light sensitive, so I’m going with it.  
> Cardassian times of day: 'Ta’' is ‘day’ the time when the sun is up, directly taken from the EKD. In this universe it's the time when you sleep on Cardassia.  
> In my world Cardassia is in a binary star system, on an S-type orbit (orbiting one of the two stars, while they cycle one another. There’s a model on Wikipedia. Yes, I did research. Sort of.) The time when you see the secondary sun in the sky is called 'chita’pey' (lit. ‘almost day time’, since the second star is further away therefore weaker).  
> ‘Night‘, when it’s dark is 'prisok’pey', ‘moon time’. The EKD uses 'itzik’pey', ‘star time’, but since I’ve established that night on my Cardassia is fairly light with its three moons, I assume you wouldn’t actually see many stars and the moons would be more dominant. This is when Cardassians are usually awake.  
> None of these daytimes is as clearly defined as the Terran day and night, since there is always a degree of overlap.


	2. Chapter 2

The next evening/morning, "yan", Julian was put on a hover-transporter towards his new assignment. Seeing how cramped the loading area was, he was glad there was a passenger seat next to the pilot. The man told him his ride was a regular supply run to the Torr district and the districts beyond, he made every three days. Apparently he took passengers at least once a month, usually the district’s pur nim, when he had business in the capital.

"Good man, from what one hears." he commented. "Not that I know much about his politics, but he’s very conscientious and never holds up my scheduel, and he’s personable enough. Frightfully good memory though. Not someone whose bad side I’d want to be on." he added tellingly.

Julian nodded and made a mental note to that effect, hoping the pur nim was on the milder side of xenophobic. The fact that the driver even talked to him like that showed just how used people in the capital were to outsiders by now. In Julian’s limited experience the same could not be said for the more rural districts. In Umpar there had been plenty of patients who’d refused treatment from an alien Doctor even with severe injuries and he had generally been regarded a with thinly veiled suspicion at best.

The ride took a little longer than Julian had calculated from the distance, but his calculations had failed to incorporate the state of the road. Looking outside he realised exactly what the relief administrator had meant with ‚annihilated‘: Once they left the inner city of what was now the capital the landscape changed drastically and horrifically. The area they were crossing now had originally been the cultural and political centre of the city and had therefore suffered some of the heaviest bombing. As far as Julian could tell there was practically nothing left for miles, hardly two stones left on top of one another. Instead there were still clearly visible impact craters left and right.

One or two lanes of road had been cleared from rubble and debris but it was still uneven and potholed. Beside the road no one seemed to have bothered much with clean up. Survival had clearly been the priority.

Julian wondered if they had made the effort to retrieve the dead, or what was left of them. The majority would have been incinerated in the explosions, but there would have been enough crushed by collapsing buildings and shockwaves, slowly succumbing to injuries or dying of radiation poisoning.

While the area would have looked devastating in broad daylight, it appeared almost unreal in the wan light of the two moons that where out this night. Together with the omnipresent dust in the air it created an eerie glow, as if a heavy fog was hanging over the plain. Good thing Cardassians don’t believe in ghosts, Julian thought to himself.

When the first lights of something resembling a village appeared through the dust Julian felt a little like a traveller in a Victorian gothic novel. He only hoped his welcome would be a little warmer. Torr district seemed to have suffered a little less damage than the surrounding area. At least there where several buildings still recognisable as such, some even seemed to have more than one story left. The lights seemed to come from a few open fires, indicating that the district didn’t have electricity yet, but it still made the area seem livelier than the fields of rubble behind them. As they came closer he noticed a group of people by the side of the road, clearly waiting for the transport.

"Your welcome committee." the pilot said with a wink.

As soon as they stopped, four or five people rushed forward to the transporter. All of them were wearing respiratory masks to protect them from the dust, the same as Julian. Those had been among the first loads of aid supplies and where still direly needed. They did, however, contribute strongly to the post-apocalyptic feeling of the scenery on Cardassia.

But even with the mask on Julian had no trouble immediately identifying the man who headed straight towards him and the pilot. Those sharp blue eyes were unmistakable. And currently they were sparkling with something that might well be joy.

Julian was struck with how similar Garak looked. Granted he had lost a lot of weight, no surprise there. He also looked a little less stiff in posture, but that might have been due to the fact that he was wearing lighter clothes, which were decidedly more the worse for wear than anything he would have ever worn on DS9. His hair was longer and his scales showed some clear signs of exposure to the elements, but his face, his eyes, the way he moved where exactly the same. And so was the way he talked.

"Good day, Ghletek," he greeted the driver pleasantly, completely ignoring Julian, "Anything special this time?"

"Nothing except your new s’h’iosr’ha, pur nim." the man said with a nod towards Julian, handing Garak the transporter manifest to sign. Julian managed to not let his surprise show. Really, why was he even surprised? Garak had had influence enough to have him transferred here, and he had all but told Julian he had some form of government position, why would it come as a surprise that he was the district‘s pur nim.

"Well, we can’t ask for more than that." Garak said amiable. "And how is your lovely intended? Well I hope." he continued to chat with Ghletek in the same solicitous manner Julian had seen him talk to his customers back on DS9. It was almost heart-warming to see. All the while he compared the manifest with the cargo the other Cardassians unloaded from the transporter. Julian decided to help with that rather than stand next to Garak and watch him charm the socks off the poor driver. Some of the packers looked surprised at that, but no one objected. Most of them kept watching him surreptitiously.

The transporter was unloaded within less than twenty minutes, the supplies carried into a building on the other side of the road that was clearly used for storage. Julian put the boxes where he was pointed towards and ignored any stares and whispering behind his back. He saw Garak return the manifest to Ghletek the pilot when he came back out the last time. Hurriedly Julian went over to say good bye and thank the man for the ride. He felt it only right for him to ignore Garak in return this time. He couldn’t keep it up for long though and not only because there wasn’t anything else left to do. When he did finally turn to his old friend he couldn’t hide the goofy grin spreading over his face even under the respirator. To his endless relief Garak grinned just as widely.

"My dear Doctor." he said warmly and for a moment it felt as if no time at all had passed.

Julian inclined his head politely the way he had learned was a gesture of respect between Cardassians. "Pur nim."

He hesitated a second before raising his hand palm out in the traditional greeting between close friends. Garak raised his eyeridge a fraction but didn’t waste a moment to press his palm against Bashir’s. At the contact their eyes meet and every fibre in Julian’s body urged him to wrap his arms around the other man and squeeze him within an inch of his life. He resisted the urge and merely returned the gentle pressure on his palm with a brilliant smile on his face.

"It’s good to see you again, Garak." he said emphatically.

"And you, my friend." the Cardassian replied, his smile every bit as wide as Julian’s and that sparkle still in his eyes.

Garak was the first to turn away and toward a man who had been waiting discreetly a few meters away. Julian had noticed him from the moment he had exited the transporter. The man had been surveying the supplies Julian had carried, while Garak had talked to the pilot and had now apparently returned to the pur nim’s side.

"May I introduce Dr Parmak, our resident physician. Dr Parmak, this is Dr Julian Bashir from Earth via Deep Space Nine, formerly known as Terrok Nor, our assigned Federation medical aid worker." Garak introduced them.

Dr Parmak nodded a greeting. "I can say I am very glad for your arrival, Doctor." he said cordially, "Any help is more than welcome."

"I’m happy to help in any way I can." Julian replied.

"I’m afraid I have to leave you in Dr Parmak’s care for a moment, Doctor, while I oversee the distribution of our latest supplies." Garak excused himself, before hurrying over to the storage building.

The two doctors remained in a somewhat awkward silence for a moment. But Julian had no patience for it. That was one thing the war with all its implications hadn’t changed about him. He knew Cardassians favoured a less direct approach, but he was curious about this new assignment and to be honest more than a little curious about Garak’s role here, and currently Dr Parmak was the only source of information he had.

"I’ve been told you’re the only doctor in this district." he inquired. Ironically, and in Julian’s eyes idiotically, it was only possible for an off-world physician to practice medicine on Cardassia where they were under the direct supervision of a local doctor. After all Cardassia couldn’t possibly trust an alien doctor to treat its citizens without anyone to keep an eye on them. That this lead to a situation where some districts didn’t have any doctor and others more than strictly needed didn’t seem to bother anyone. Julian tried not to think about that right now. If there was something he trusted Garak with, it was to want what was best for Cardassia, so he wouldn’t have brought him here if he could be of more use somewhere else.

"Until now, yes." Dr Parmak replied, confirming Julian’s suspicion with the next sentence, "I have two, well, nurses of sorts, but that is the entirety of our medical staff."

"Of sorts?" Julian couldn’t hold back.

Parmak nodded. "Neither of them was originally trained as a nurse. Lysal was a hintar’akec, which has in fact come in handy more than a few times during the last months, and Kalek used to be a dental technician." he shrugged, "We have to make do and they are doing the best they can. As do we all."

Julian nodded. "Of course." This was nothing new. At his previous posting three of the five nurses had gone through a career change after the war. Everyone with even preliminary medical knowledge had been drafted to help where they were most needed, since most of the trained medical personnel had been drafted to serve on the war ships, most of which had been destroyed. To have a hintar’akec, a uniquely Cardassian qualification somewhere between a paramedic and a triage nurse, was in fact a case of rare luck.

"How many people live in the district?" he asked

"1346 for the moment. We lost many in the last year, but we’re hoping there’ll be more soon." Parmak replied.

"Yes?" Julian was a little surprised by that. He couldn’t imagine birth rates were very high at the moment.

"Yes." the Cardassian confirmed grimly, "We need specialised people here, if we want to start rebuilding at some point. We’re all doing what we can here, but aside from our medical personnel we have two engineers and a total of five people who have some form of experience in growing things, including the purr nim. Unfortunately all of them are more familiar with ornamental plants than farming. No one knows a thing about construction or the installation of sanitary facilities and while we’re trying our hands on farming, structural integrity and electric wiring aren’t things you want to work out by trial and error. We’ve had enough collapsing buildings in the last year."

"What about the other 1339?" Bashir asked, "What did they do before the war?"

"276 of them are children," Dr Parmak explained, "the others were filing clerks, government officials, servants, one or two were craftspeople, scientists or academics. But we have very little use for a crocker or a numismatist these days. We have one highly esteemed writer of replicator patterns, which would be fantastic if we had any working replicators."

At this point in the conversation Garak returned, loaded with two heavy bags, one which he passed on to the Cardassian Doctor. Dr Parmak took it without hesitation, scanning over the provided list of contents.

"Still no prosaconazole and no NRIs." he observed with a tut.

"We have a few cases of fungal infections of the lung, presumably from the dust. Something that sat in the walls of those old houses would be my guess. None of them are in any immediate danger, but I’d rather see it treated none the less. Apparently whoever is in charge of supply distribution disagrees with me." he explained to Julian.

The human suppressed a shudder. It was yet again one of these cases that showed just how dire the situation still was. Even if Julian saw a hundred thousand hungry children in the streets, bombed out cities and destroyed buildings, it was always cases like this that put things into perspective for him. Cases where the problem was such that it wouldn’t have taken him five minutes to treat the patient back on DS9 simply by replicating medication that was completely unattainable here.

The psychiatric drugs on the other hand didn’t surprise him in the least. There were probably not enough of those drugs in the quadrant to satiate the need of one thoroughly traumatised planet like Cardassia. Which brought him straight to his next question.

"Is there anywhere I could store my stuff?"

"At the moment Lysal, Kalek and myself are living in the clinic. It’s a former mansion of some official that mostly survived the bombing. At least the ground floor of the east wing did. We’ve taken the liberty to clear a bed for you there with us." Dr Parmak offered.

"I’d be very grateful for that, thank you." Julian replied, honestly relieved.

He had worried that the situation would be similar to Umpar, where he had been housed in one of the mass accommodations. Since all the towns surviving inhabitants had to share the fifteen remaining buildings during the day, privacy had been an untenable luxury. Julian had slept in a room together with twenty four other people. Actually most nights it was more that he had tried to sleep. Cardassians weren’t naturally prone to snore as he had been worried the first night. But people who had survived the heavy bombing of their homes and watched countless of their friends and family die were more than prone to night terrors. Although from what Julian had heard some nights in screams and mumblings he was certain a good deal of that trauma had already been present well before the Dominion. In short, restful nights had been few and far between and he was selfishly looking forward to sharing a room with three people rather than two dozen.

"We can take you there to get settled in." Garak suggested, "Knowing you it takes more than a few hours on a transport to discourage you from wanting to work."

"And knowing you, you didn’t have me assigned here to enjoy the view." Julian replied dryly.

Garak’s eyes widened to his oh-so-familiar mask of complete innocence. "Whatever do you mean Doctor. I have done no such thing. I’m merely a small district’s pur nim. Surely you don’t believe I have enough influence to affect your assignment."

Julian made no attempt to reign in the grin again spilling on his face.

"I’m sure a small district pur nim doesn’t have that kind of influence any more than a plain and simple tailor could hack into Deep Space Nine’s mainframe." he replied.

The glint in Garaks eye belied his pleasure in their conversation. "I’m glad we agree, Doctor. We have been asking for more aid workers, especially a second doctor, for months now." he declared. "If I mentioned to an acquaintance that a friend of mine was a medical aid worker and I had hopes to see him during his time on Cardassia, surely you’ll have to agree that can only be a tremendous coincidence."

"And we both know that you believe in coincidences." Julian grinned.

"I believe I told you something to that accord once, Doctor," Garak replied smoothly, "But of course you’re the one with the eidetic memory, surely you remember my words better than I do."

Julian nodded, satisfied they were both referencing the same conversation in a runabout from Bajor over eight years ago. It seemed almost like a different lifetime.

“And is it normal for the small district pur nim to pick up newcomers?” he teased, just because it felt better than he would have imagined to be back to bantering with his Cardassian friend. Over the last year Julian and Garak had exchanged a number of messages, whenever Garak had been able to send one, which had been less often than Julian would have liked. He had worried more than he had expected, given that Garak had spend months on Cardassia before with Damar’s resistance. Maybe it had been that he had been with Kira while he was now alone on a planet that, while still his home, was much less of a friendly place than even before, which was saying something.

Garak gave him his best professional look. “I am responsible for the distribution of resources, which is exactly what you are, my dear doctor.”

"Are you comparing me to food rations, Garak?" Julian pretended to look put out.

"Of course not, Doctor." Garak’s eyes widened with shocked indignity, "You’re much more valuable than that. If I’d compare you to anything it would be the new operating table we got two months ago." The last sentence was said with that teasing smile Julian found he had missed more than he had been aware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysal’s old job ‘hintar’akec’ is linguistically based in the Kardassi word for health as you find it the toast in the EKD: ‘hintik’ ‘to your health’. The idea is based on a medical qualification that exists in some countries. People who are specifically trained for medical aid on emergency rescue missions. It’s a higher qualification than paramedic or nurse but not quite a doctor.   
> Prosaconazole is an actual anti fungal medication.   
> NRI stands for norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor which is a type of psychriatic drug often used for narcolepsy, ADHD or depression.   
> More daytime words: ‘Yan’ is supposed to mean ‘evening’, but I’ve taken it to mean ‘(prime)sunset’ instead. It marks the end of ta’ and therefore the beginning of the workday. The opposite is   
> ‘men’ here ‘sunrise’.


	3. Chapter 3

Most of the surviving buildings in Torr had apparently been private residences, most of them rather large ones, from what Julian could tell from the ruins. They were all sturdy, somewhat bulky structures, perfect for protection from the heat and for advertising their prestigious owners, although there was only little left of the latter aspect after the bombing.

The clinic was located in the ground level of one those mansions. The upper levels had clearly been destroyed and removed so the stable parts of the building where all that was left, which did rather interesting things to the formerly imposing front. Once inside it seemed the remains where mostly the previous servants’ quarters.

The rooms where smaller than Julian had expected but not unsuitable for a hospital. Dr Parmak showed him around.

The energy situation was as abysmal as was to be expected, with hardly enough power to keep the most important equipment activated when needed. Parmak informed him they got a monthly energy allotment with the supplies that could last two tricorders fot the month and ten hours for the operating table. Everything else was off-limits. But the place was clean and looked to be reassuring for patients. Julian did not hesitate to comment that they could be proud of what they had made of it, a compliment the other Doctor accepted with visible pleasure.

Garak excused himself when they got to the house, but hinted they would see each other for lunch, which didn’t seem to surprise Parmak. Unfortunately Julian didn’t have time to wonder about it. He was introduced to Nurse Lysal by way of nearly being run over by her as she hastened to aid a patient while simultaneously assuring the doctors over her shoulder that it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle by herself.

Kalek was not currently on shift, but they met him when Dr Parmak showed Julian his room. In a manner of speaking at least. It was another servant quarter, the same size as most of the ‘treatment rooms’ and happily it was even only a two bed room. Julian was informed he would be sharing with Kalek, who was currently sleeping off his daylight shift, so Julian merely quietly dropped his bags on the bed and left the man in peace. He only took his MAW uniform and his medkit with him. On inquiry it turned out that Dr Parmak had stayed in this room until last week and had now moved to a different room.

"We’re only using a part of the house for the clinic. Six beds and two rooms for treatment and we use the kitchen as operating room." he explained "The servant quarters have the advantage of being almost cut off from the rest of the building so we could theoretically seal them in case we need to quarantine the clinic. The rest of the building is used to house thirty six other people." he explained.

Julian took all information he could gather in, listening to Dr Parmak as he continued.

"We tried to keep patient records, more for ourselves at the moment, most of them handwritten and only the most necessary information. Allergies, pre-existing conditions, regular medications, special reactions; anything that could influence a new treatment. Not very extensive, but the best we can do."

Julian nodded. The Umpar hospital had tried to do something similar. It seemed record keeping really was deeply ingrained into the Cardassian mindset. Over the last two months Julian had learned to take most things Garak had told him were typical for Cardassians with a grain of salt, but this one fact had rung true so far.

"I know little about human physiognomy, but from what I have heard I assume you will do better on the prisok’pey shift?" Dr Parmak inquired.

"Humans are less heat resistant than Cardassians." Julian confirmed. "I’m usually good as long as I stay inside, but I can’t be outside longer than a few minutes in the sun. That makes me rather unsuited for ta’ I’m afraid. I can work in the clinic, but if anything happens outside I’m stuck here."

It wasn’t a weakness he was particularly happy with. He hated the feeling that he was getting special treatment, never being able to work the less desirable sunlight shift, but the fact was as long as there weren’t more doctors it was simply not practicable any other way. Parmak seemed to understand though.

"Then I will take the ta’ shifts." he said evenly.

"I’m really sorry." Julian said a little sheepishly.

To his surprise the older man smiled. "Not at all, Dr Bashir. I am very willing to take any shift I have to if it means I get a second doctor at all and more than five hours of sleep more than twice a week. Your help is very much appreciated in whatever form. The least we can do is to accommodate your physical needs. And the last thing we need is a doctor turning into a patient."

He showed Julian a small room with a sign on the door, stating it was ‘personnel only’. The door was secured with an old-fashioned combination lock, the like Julian hadn’t ever seen outside a holosuit. It contained a small bench, a coat rack, a shelf and a bin.

"You can change here or in your room." Parmak explained, "We also get ready for operations in here." he added showing Julian one of the shelves neatly stacked with sanitary wipes, several bottles of disinfectant gel, surgical gloves in several sizes and yko stones. Julian had encountered them before. They were fairly similar to pumice and used in the same way, to clean hands and scales without the need for water. He had learned that water had never been used much for washing on Cardassia, since it was a precious resource, but the tougher, scaled skin allowed for cleaning with different kinds of brittle rock and sand before sonic cleansers had been invented. Unfortunately they were too rough for human skin. Luckily the volunteers program had considered this and sent several packs of dry soap with the supplies accompanying their MAWs. 

"Not exactly sterile, I know." Parmak shrugged, "I recommend taking a bottle and disinfect in the operating room, next door. It’s the best we can do without regular access to power. Speaking of which, the toilet is out there." he pointed to a door at the other end of the room. "Outhouse, of course."

"Of course." Julian nodded, "You keep the medical supplies here, as well?" he added with a look at the shelf.

Parmak nodded. "That’s why we keep the room locked at all times. Can you remember the combination if I tell you?"

At Julian’s confident nod he rattled out a column of numbers Julian immediately repeated back at him. He nodded apparently satisfied.

"We change the code every other week, just to be safe. Order of the pur nim. It’s not likely someone will try to steal anything, but it’s not worth the risk apparently."

Julian bit down a smile and merely nodded. Now that sounded like the Garak he remembered. Always paranoid.

"I would recommend you get changed." Parmak suggested, "I will spend the rest of the time until lunch helping to familiarize you with the clinic and the work, and then I will lie down until sunrise, if you think you can handle being on your own."

At that point Nurse Lysal was finally able to join them, sticking her head through the storage/dressing room door. "I’m sure he can manage. The sooner he learns the better." she stated, "And he won’t be alone after all."

"No, “ Parmak confirmed, "Lysal will be there for the rest of the prisok’pey shift."

"Then I’m sure I’m in good hands." Julian replied with a smile, feeling suddenly a little naked under the nurse’s cool appraising gaze. He knew he was under double scrutiny as an alien and a man in a woman’s field, according to Cardassian standards, and quickly resolved to put his best foot forward with her. After all, like every doctor worth his salt he knew never to get on the bad side of the nurses.

He managed decently the rest of the morning. After he had changed into his uniform, happily a much lighter version than his usual Starfleet garb and more in tune with Cardassian aesthetics, being a combination of beige and light pale blue, Dr Parmak put him immediately to work. There were barely any acute cases at the moment, mostly people being in long term treatments for radiation, lung problems and the like. There where a few cases of diseases due to the terrible dust in the air and the ever-present tUrko sedvel, a joint inflammation that resulted from malnutrition that had become all but epidemic on Cardassia over the last year. Thankfully it wasn’t fatal. Time flew by and before Julian knew how it had happened Dr Parmak came to get him for lunch.

To Julian’s surprise when they headed outside they were met with a man and a woman handing out bowls of something that smelled almost like real food. In Umpar they had handed out ration packs and whatever else the government supplied once a week to every inhabitant of the district. The situation here reminded Julian more of a food bank. People from all around flocked to the two figures, who had set up shop on the small square in front of the clinic, probably a former kitchen garden. The woman filled the bowls from a large pot and the man handed them out.

"Please, after you." Parmak offered politely.

"I trust you have gotten a grip on our situation here," he said as they entered the forming line, "and no major problems have come up?"

"None. In fact I was a little surprised by the degree of acceptance from the patients." Julian admitted, "I was prepared for more rejection. On my last posting I had people refusing to be treated by an off-worlder."

Parmak frowned a little. "Yes our people can be very dismissive of other peoples. For that I apologise. I guess at the moment curiosity outweighs prejudice. Most people in this district have never met an off-worlder before."

"Oh." Bashir couldn’t entirely hide his surprise. But of course it made sense. Most people on Cardassia Prime wouldn’t have, the Empire had never been very interested in cultural exchange, or any exchange really, given the Cardassian ideology of superiority in everything. The only ones in contact with the rest of the galaxy had been the military, probably the Obsidian Order and a few select politicians and scientists like the ones that had helped with the communications falance through the wormhole. Civilians wouldn’t have any experience with other civilisations.

"I’ll try to be the best representation of off-worlders that I can be for them." Julian said and immediately strove to let actions follow his words when it was their turn in the cue. He gratefully accepted the warm bowl and politely thanked the woman who had handed it to him. She nodded curtly and appraised him with unabashed scrutiny.

"This is different, too." Julian pointed out to Parmak, "Where I was before there were only ration packs. I don’t think I’ve eaten a cooked meal in two months."

"Unfortunately this is not much more either." the other doctor explained, "But since people with good cooking skills seems to be the only thing we’re not short on here the pur nim suggested they could try and do something different with the rations to make the whole thing feel less dire."

"It also has the pleasant side effect of bringing people together when otherwise everyone would sit in their own corner chewing on rations and stewing in their misery." Garak appeared next to them as if he had been summoned by the mention of his title. Speak of the devil had never seemed so apt, Julian thought. His friend smiled pleasantly, slurping on his own bowl of stew.

"Oktar is a magnificent cook." he observed, "The food is of course still a bit bland, but I seem to remember humans don’t mind that as much."

Julian could only agree. The stew was the best thing he had eaten in a while. It barely tasted of ration bars at all. To his blunt human sense of taste it was surprisingly flavourful. He tried not to wolf it down too quickly, having noticed that everyone got exactly one bowl and not more.

Garak watched him attentively. "Well, doctor, I trust you’re finding your workplace and accommodation adequate. It’s no DS9 of course, but I assure you the best we can do."

Julian briefly considered asking him if he was kidding, but decided against it.

"More than adequate, I assure you. You seem to be doing much better here than in Umpar, with much less resources from what I can tell." Julian added only to see the faces of the two men opposite him visibly light up with pride. Garak of course quickly schooled his features back to his usual bland geniality.

"That is exceptionally kind of you to say, Doctor." he replied humbly, "We have worked very hard for everything we have achieved. Unfortunately," he sighed dramatically, "our work is never done."

He turned to Parmak. "Will you be joining us for this afternoon’s spelunking, Doctor?" he asked casually.

Suddenly Parmak seemed very uncomfortable.

"Dr Bashir and I had originally agreed for him to take on the prisok’pey shift, with regards to his physical limitations when it comes to withstanding heat," he started, "but if you’re planning on an excavation today, maybe we could start that arrangement tomorrow."

Already half way through Garak had raised his hands to wave him off. "That seems like a very sensible arrangement to me. I have full confidence in Dr Bashir to deal with the situation. He will have to learn to cope anyway and today is as good a day to start as any, don’t you think."

"Exactly what situation are we talking about? What kind of potholing are you doing around here?" Julian inquired.

"It’s part of the ground preparation we are doing." Garak explained, "The interim government has decided to turn this district into farmland as much as possible. Which makes sense under the aspect that there is a lot of empty space now, which won’t be filled, even if we build a new house for every citizen of the district. Not that we have the means to do that."

"That sounds like there are other aspects that are less favourable for this venture." Julian observed.

The look Garak gave him looked suspiciously like pride.

"Very good Doctor, you have learned to pay attention to what isn‘t said. You are right of course. Naturally we followed the orders of our government last year, but... Well, let’s just say farming has proven more difficult than expected."

"It was a disaster." Parmak commented with a sigh.

"Because you didn’t have the knowledge?" Julian asked remembering what the Doctor had told him about the lack of qualified labourers in the district. But Garak shook his head.

"We didn’t anticipate how unsuitable the ground is." he said.

Julian frowned. He knew of course that soil could be very different and what grew depended on the kind of soil, but he couldn’t imagine that nothing would grow at all.

"Did the radiation damage the soil?"

This time both Cardassians shook their heads.

"The problem is that there is no soil to start with. There hasn’t been in centuries." Garak explained. "Even if there had been any form of agriculture on Prime, which there hasn’t been in nearly two hundred years, Torr used to be a part of Kardassi’or as you might know. Not exactly the centre, but close enough so the edge of the city was several kilometres further out. Everything around us has been residential areas for generations. The only patches of soil we have here are from the gardens and parks."

"Which would be a start," Parmak chimed in, "but there is the additional problem that most of the houses that used to stand here had basements, which are now highly unstable and prone to cave-ins. We lost several people last year in sinkholes while we were trying to prepare the ground for any kind of farming."

"As a general recommendation I would advise that you avoid any cross country walks, Doctor." Garak suggested. "The streets are generally safe, but the same can not be said for most of the area."

Julian filed that under useful information.

"So now you’re doing what? Re-stabilise the ground somehow?" he asked.

"No, we’re actually trying to open up the basements and plan to fill them up with soil if we can. This has the advantage that we’re gaining a deeper layer of soil which can take the water better and allows for deeper roots if we, for example, decide to grow trees. A lot of these basements have also not been looted yet, because they are so unstable. Clearing them out for anything useful is what we’ll be doing this afternoon. We spend the morning removing the remainders of the floor covering some of the basements and we’re ready to go down now. Unfortunately even with all precautions accidents are rather prone to happening during these operations so we have taken to having someone from the clinic with us, in case any immediate medical attention is required. Some of these sites are a few minutes walk away from here and we have no proper way of transporting any injured other than to carry them."

Bashir nodded. "I see."

"Do you think you’re up to it doctor?" Garak asked with a challenging twinkle in his eyes.

Julian suppressed a grin, but nodded. "When do you start?"

His friend smirked, clearly satisfied. "I would say, there is plenty of time for you to eat you lunch, but I can see being among civilized people hasn’t done much for this habit of yours to inhale your food." he peeked chidingly at Julian’s already empty bowl. "So instead we’ll leave once I have finished my lunch. Which gives you plenty of time to go and get a medkit from the clinic. Meet me back here. I’ll take that and hand it back to Oktar." he added, reaching for the empty bowl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Sedvel’ is the word the EKD uses for illness/desease.


	4. Chapter 4

About ten minutes later the two of them, as well as a hand full of other people left the few remaining buildings behind them and walked out onto what Julian had started to call no-man’s-land in his mind. He and Garak walked side by side, the other’s stayed a bit at the distance, but Julian noticed that most of them never took their eyes off him.

Garak pretended not to notice. Instead he chatted lightly about his hopes to find some more books and food. He carried a large roll of rope over his shoulder and a backpack on his back that seemed rather heavy considering it was nearly empty.

"I didn’t expect you’d be down here, with the actual work." Julian observed. "Not that I don’t think you’re not doing everything you can for Cardassia," he added quickly, "but as pur nim, surely no one expects you to dig through basements."

"An attitude I’m sure many of my colleagues in other districts share." Garak replied dryly, "Yes, I am pur nim, which makes me responsible for distribution of supplies and organising the districts workforce. Apart from that I travel to the capital every other week where I petition the interim government and apply for specific supplies we need, and once a month I participate in the meeting of the administrators of this constituency. But the rest of the time, and I assure you, Doctor, there is plenty of it, I strive to do my part just like everybody else." he explained patiently.

"That’s commendable." Julian replied.

Garak shrugged.

"I believe there is a human expression Chief O’Brien was quite fond of: If you want something done right..."

Julian laughed out loud.

"So I’m just supposed to sit here and wait for someone to get injured?" he asked once Garak indicated their arrival by putting down the rope. They were still in the same neighbourhood, judging by the large patches of land that lay between the visible network of roads. Other than in the area between Torr and the capital the area here had been mostly cleared of debris and the remnants of buildings, leaving a large open plane that looked equally orderly and desolate. An impression only enhanced by the occasional dust devil dancing across the plain, even though Julian could tell that the air was slightly clearer on this side of the town. The outlines of the previous estates were still visible on the ground and in each of them Julian could see deep, clear cut holes in the ground, next to which the work crews set up shop.

"Of course not Doctor." Garak replied indignantly, "You can help with the rubble removal. Lakar the younger will show you the ropes."

Ghlenora Lakar, generally referred to as ‚the younger Lakar‘ was a tall skinny woman, hardly older than Julian, but with surprising bodily strength. She and a dozen others were skimming through a pile of what Julian quickly identified as the former floor, separating it into smaller piles. When Garak introduced them she gave him the same curious and appraising glance he had been given all day.

"We need to separate the different materials." she explained quickly. "Concrete goes over there, wood here, synthetic materials over there and any metal you give to me. Use this." she added handing him a hammer and something he was clearly supposed to use as a cotter.

To his own utter astonishment Julian spend the next few hours sitting on the ground hammering away at peaces of rubble, separating the different materials from one another, covered in sweat, grime and dust. The heat made itself known much more than he had yet experienced on Cardassia and he was grateful that at least there wasn’t a blazing sun in the sky, burning his skin. The air around him was hot but the light coming from the two moons was not. Unfortunately the work caused more dust to rise again which didn’t only stick to his sweat soaked skin, but also made the air thick and opaque again.

With one eye he watched as the salvaging crew climbed down into the basement. He could tell they were careful; every abseiling was carefully monitored by at least two people at the top and every down team was comprised of three people roped together. It was evident that they had some experience with what they were doing. Every now and then the people monitoring pulled up boxes or larger items the teams had salvaged. Julian had already noticed that the group he and Garak were with wasn’t the only one in the area. He could detect at least three more such salvage and rubble removal crews in the neighbourhood before the dust grew too thick to see much further.

Garak himself remained above ground, coordinating the teams and cataloguing the finds. A third group of workers appeared about half an hour after they had started, armed with pushcarts, bags and a hay cart, and started to remove everything the salvagers had found, as well as all the parts from the floors that weren’t concrete, and transported them back to the settlement. Just like the spelunking itself, the whole thing was clearly a tried and tested operation. In total there were probably fifty people busily milling about every whole in the ground, efficiently clearing it of anything potentially useful and Julian found himself surprisingly content to be one of them, even if he wasn’t really needed as a doctor and could have probably been doing better work in the clinic treating people with dust lungs. But he suspected Lysal could handle that part of the job well on her own.

He was torn from the pleasant numbness his mind had descended into while his hands were busy by excited shouting from one of the other salvaging sites. His Kardassi was still subpar when people talked fast but the dominating word from the shouts he recognised immediately: s'h'iosr'ha, doctor.

He jumped to his feet, grabbed the medkit he had previously discarded on the ground and headed towards the source of the shouts. He unwrapped one of the saniwipes and cleaned his hands as he was running.

"Be careful where you step, Doctor." he heard Garak, utterly unsurprisingly, next to him. It was good advice. The ground had been largely cleared of debris, but it was covered with loose sand and gravel that made it rather slippery. An especially awkward condition when one could not be sure in what kind of whole one would fall if a foot slipped. Therefore Julian carefully placed one foot in front of the other while still trying to move as quickly as possible.

As they reached the site someone came immediately up to Garak and started talking at him too fast and panicked for Julian to understand more than every other word. The gist of it seemed to be that a wall had unexpectedly come down and nearly buried a man, while rendering a second unconscious. Suddenly it became very clear to Julian that he would have to be climbing down into the basement to get to his patients.

In the meantime Garak had introduced him to the other man as the new doctor come to help out Dr Parmak. The other Cardassian looked Bashir over sceptically, but he was clearly not in a position to argue so he only waved Julian over to the edge of the basement. With one hand he pointed down with the other he waved two of his crew members over.

Down in the pit Julian could see the site of the accident. Four people where trying to remove the debris from the collapsed wall from their colleagues, one who was clearly still unconscious.

"Ever climbed before s'h'iosr'ha?" the one who appeared to be the foreman asked as two others started to tie a rope securely around Julian’s waist and upper thighs. He had in fact done a little in the holosuit once or twice but it had never been his favourite sport.

"Never like this." he replied as lightly as he could. "First time for everything, I guess."

The Cardassian merely nodded tightly. "Just follow the instructions of the monitoring team and the team at the bottom." he ordered. "Do you have everything you need? Make sure you don’t drop it." he added when Julian pointed at his medkit.

It was a slow, careful and excruciatingly long process to get Julian down into the basement. In reality it took maybe six or seven minutes (6.74 his augmented inner timer supplied), but it felt like half an hour to Julian as he was suspended in the air and slowly lowered to the bottom. Once he was down it took another two minutes until he was freed from the rope, so all in all Julian calculated it had maybe taken fifteen minutes for him to get to his patient with the severe head injury.

Fortunately the man had regained at least partial consciousness again when Julian reached him. He was slightly woozy but largely coherent and responded to questions, which relieved the doctor immensely. Still there was a nasty head wound where the wall had hit him and Julian’s tricoder indicated the possibility of a concussion, potentially even damage to the skull. Unfortunately Julian had plenty of experience with Cardadassian’s and concussions at this point. It took a lot for a Cardassian to ever get concussed but once the damage was done the effects could be quite severe.

"He needs to get to the clinic immediately." he ordered. Then he turned to his other patient. The others had managed to drag him out from under the rubble, but Julian could instantly see that he had at least a broken leg and several severe contusions. He was clearly in a lot of pain, breathing flatly, his face white and teeth grinding. A preliminary examination revealed at least two cracked ribs and a sprain in the shoulder.

"Both of them." Julian decreed while he administered a painkiller. "We need to get them up as carefully as possible."

He turned to look up at the row of worried faces peering over the edge about three meters above him.

"What do you need Doctor?" Garak called down.

"First two straight pieces of wood to splint his leg before we get him up. Then we need some kind of transportation for the both of them, they can’t possibly walk all the way back. And someone should run ahead to the clinic and tell Lysal to prep the operating room." Julian ordered.

Garak nodded. "I’ll see what I can do if you can get them pulled up in the meantime."

First they pulled up the man with the head wound, Samal. While he was being tied carefully into the ropes, Julian set and splinted the broken leg of his second patient, Zekim, and tried his best to stabilise his ribcage. The medkit didn’t have an osteoregenerator and Julian doubted they would have the power to fuel one even if there was one at the clinic.

He monitored Samal’s ascend to the surface carefully, making sure the man didn’t let his head droop and issued order for his head to be held steady as much as possible. He wasn’t going to take any risks if Samal truly had a concussion.

Once the first man was safely up, Bashir supervised the tying up of the second. It was a little tricky to tie the ropes in a way that didn’t upset the rips and shoulder even more, but after a few attempts they managed a position that at least didn’t have Zekim gasp in pain and one that Julian was satisfied didn‘t risk him puncturing a lung.

Julian followed quickly after, only to be greeted by more excited, worried shouts as he reached the surface.

Garak had made good on his promise to organise means of transport as well as possible. As Julian untangled himself from the ropes, Zekim was hoisted into one of the pushcarts and Samal was lying limply in the hay cart. Julian instantly headed that way, alarmed by worried cries "He’s lost consciousness again."

"He needs to get to the clinic, right now." he ordered after a quick look over the man’s condition. It was impossible to tell if the movement had increased the damage or if the injury had simply taken it’s toll, but it was now definitely critical. He heard Garak order two men to pull the cart and then they set off at speed, Julian following behind, trying to hold his patient’s head as steadily as possible.

He didn’t waste any time stopping as they hurried into the clinic almost five minutes later, all three of them out of breath. They had had to abandon the cart outside the house as it didn’t fit through the doors so they continued to carry the injured man as fast as they could through the corridors, still trying to keep the head steady.

"He needs to get to the operating room straight away." Julian told Lysal as they hurried past her. "We’ve got another one coming right behind us, broken leg, cracked ribs, sprained shoulder." he informed her. She nodded and helped him and the others to lift Samal onto the operating table.

"Should I wake Dr Parmak?" she asked businesslike.

"Only if you need help." he replied. "I’ll start operating as soon as I clean my hands again and it will probably take a while." he added, leaving the choice to her.

He was right; the operation did take a while. As it turned out not only had Samal a severe concussion, which would have been bad enough, but he had actually fractured his skull. Under normal circumstances this would have been a critical but uncomplicated surgery. No problem for a man who had worked on a cranial implant before. But as it were he didn’t have the necessary tools to treat the injury safely. He had been right about there not being a working osteoregeneratior. The operating table was working fine, but it was an old model and the power was severely limited, making it little help for brain surgery. The concussion had led to a swelling in the brain, which was working against the fracture as well, the two injuries conspiring to cause the most damage possible. Samal had already been in a deep coma by the time they had reached the clinic and it became increasingly clear that he was not going to wake up from it.

Julian worked nearly four hours on his patient before giving up the fight.

Lysal was already waiting for him when he came out the operating room. He would have to check over her patch up work for the other man soon, but right now he didn’t have the energy. He simply assumed she would have gotten help if she had had any trouble.

He gave her a brief summary of what had happened. She nodded grimly, but didn’t say anything. "Did he have any family, I should inform?" Julian asked. Lysal shook her head. "Not in this district, but you need to report to the pur nim, so he can file the death at the records office." she said.

Bashir nodded numbly. That part he knew about.

"The other work crews will be coming in shortly. You need to check everyone for cuts and torn scales. We can’t afford any infections." she said coolly, "I’ll wake Kalek to help me with the body. His shift starts soon anyway."

With that she left him standing in the corridor. Julian made no attempt to follow her. It was another thing he had learned the hard way: It didn’t matter that he had seen the man die, as an off-worlder he was not to look at a dead Cardassian if he could avoid it in any way. So instead he cleaned his hands again and walked out to the entrance area, and sat heavily down on a bench. For the moment there was nobody here, but he could hear the noises from outside indicating that people gathered there. Quiet clinking sounds informed him that it was likely time for dinner soon.

Julian had lost many patients over the last two months and he knew it was only a fraction of what Cardassia had suffered in the last years. Between the Klingons and the Dominion the war had cost the Union about 1.5 billion citizens and that number had almost doubled over the last year. It wasn’t just the injured and sick who had succumbed to their ailments later than the ones killed directly, but people had been crushed by collapsing buildings, starved or infected by menial diseases, not to mention the ever growing number of people who couldn’t bear the loss, grief and trauma any more.

His brain was good with statistics. He knew the numbers and he was usually good at separating himself, his feelings from them. It was harder when it came to his own patients, but he had learned to detach himself there, too. The war had nearly destroyed that ability, but at the same time Julian knew he had only survived the war with his mental heath intact by not letting the injured and dying affect him too much. He didn’t like losing patients, but he knew and accepted that it was a part of the job as long as he did the best he could. He had today but, as it sometimes happened, it hadn’t been enough. He didn’t allow himself to hurt over this, but he let himself feel the tiredness that had seeped into his bones for just a moment.

When the first of the people who had been working on the basements came in with a large gash in his forearm, he pushed it aside and got back to work.

It took him another hour and a half until everyone was treated. It seemed there had been many more crews than Julian had been able to see out there. Halfway through he was joined by Lysal and Kalek, who introduced himself with a curt nod and a grim face. Julian couldn’t fault him for it. There were certainly nicer ways to start one’s day than by deposing of a body. But with his help they finished the rush quicker and they were alone again. Lysal audibly dumped the debris they had cleared out of cuts and gashes into a bin.

"That’s me for today." she declared. She turned to Bashir. "End of shift. You and I can go get some dinner if there is any left. The Doctor should be up when we get back, so you can brief him." she told him. With no further word she strutted outside.


	5. Chapter 5

The dinner crowd that had clearly been there had already mostly dispersed when Julian finally left the clinic. He had wanted to get out of his filthy uniform, even at the risk of missing dinner altogether.

Garak was waiting for him with a bowl in his hands.

"Samal died." Julian reported. "I’m sorry. I did what I could."

Garak sighed deeply, but nodded. "I’m sure you did, Doctor."

"I took the liberty of saving some for you." he told the doctor as he handed over the food. He guided Julian to sit on the stairs that had once led to the grand entrance of the house. "Come on, my friend. Let’s sit down and eat while we watch the sunrise together." he suggested.

Julian let himself fall down and looked up. Garak was right, the sky was light and the horizon was tinged in that particular rusty orange that was typical for Cardassian prime sunrises. He noticed the heat had also picked up considerably. In less than half an hour it would be too hot for him to be outside. Right now he didn’t care much, he was too tired and hungry.

"Well Doctor," Garak took a seat next to him on the stairs, "what do you think of your first day in Torr?"

Julian took his time answering, gulping down some of his stew, a slightly different variation than the lunch one, while he was trying to sort through all the things that had happened since he had arrived this morning. It felt distinctly longer than a single day. It was surprisingly soothing to hear Garak’s light conversational tone, as if they were sitting in the Replimat asking each other about their day and not as if he had just told him about the death of a patient.

"There were certainly a lot of things I did not expect." he said finally, "I have to say, I could have done without loosing a patient on the first day."

Garak nodded sagely. "Samal was the first death we had in two months." he said quietly.

Julian gave him a sideways look. "Thank you. I feel so much better now." he muttered sarcastically.

"You should." Garak replied, "Death has very much become a constant on Cardassia I’m afraid. There have been times in the last year when we couldn’t dispose of the bodies fast enough. But now we didn’t have a death in two months. Things are looking up."

Bashir nearly laughed at that. "Taking the death of a man as a sign for improvement. And you accuse me of being an incurable optimist."

Garak gave him an amused look. "We live in strange times indeed, my dear." His smile softened a little as he added, "And I for one am glad you are now sharing them with me."

The sun wasn’t fully up by the time Julian had finished his dinner. Garak refrained from chiding him for inhaling his food, which somehow disappointed Julian to his own surprise. The two friends remained on the stairs a little longer, chatting amicably about everything and nothing until it became to hot and too bright to remain outside and they said good night.

"It is a pleasure to be able to share a meal with you again after all this time, Doctor." Garak declared, placing his hands lightly on Julian’s arms.

"That feeling in entirely mutual, Garak" Julian replied not bothering to hide his smile. After a meal and a good conversation with his friend he felt a lot better. He was still tired and exhausted, but the world didn’t feel quite as overwhelming anymore.

Dr Parmak expected Julian when he returned to the clinic. Julian gave him a brief summary of the days patients, assuming Lysal would provide the other half of the report. Parmak nodded gravely at his report from the basements. Clearly he had already heard of Samal.

"By the way, I never got the chance to ask, how is Zekim?" Julian asked.

"He will be fine. He won’t be able to work for at least four weeks and he’ll have to stay here for a week or two, but he will recover. You managed to get him here without a lunge puncture or any other internal injury. He will live."

Julian nodded relieved. At least some good news. "Good. I’ll have to congratulate Lysal on her good work tomorrow."

"You should have woken me." Parmak stated.

"You don’t believe I knew what I was doing." Julian tried to keep his temper in check. By now he should have learned to expect the average Cardassian’s distrust of anything or anyone off-world and their generally low opinion of any off-worlder’s abilities. Knowing it didn’t make him feel any less annoyed by it though.

To his surprise Parmak shook his head. "No one could have saved him under these conditions. I’ve seen the body and what you did. I needed to make sure that you did know what you were doing, I am unfamiliar with your character and capabilities after all." he added before Julian could say another word in defence of his professional pride.

"But you are right," he continued quickly, "there will be people who will think exactly that, that you, a human doctor couldn’t possibly know what you were doing and that Samal died because of that. We could have avoided that if you had a called for my help. That way when he would have died no one could blame the Federaji doctor."

Julian thought about that for a moment. "I see your point." he said finally, "And I apologise that I let my own prejudice get away with me. I appreciate what you’re trying to offer, it’s very generous. But I couldn’t have set that precedent. Number one, you called me here to alleviate your workload so if I am going to wake you up every time things get a little hectic there isn’t much point to me being here at all. And secondly, the medical situation being what it is here it is inevitable that people will die from time to time. It is inevitable under the best of circumstances. I can’t let you hold my hand through every remotely critical surgery just so I have an alibi in case things go badly. That way people would never learn to trust my medical proficiency. I am grateful that you wish to protect me, but I will not be deterred by a few xenophobes. I know it will take time for people to accept me and some probably never will, but I’m willing to put in that time and deal with the rest."

Parmak eyed him inquisitively.

"You are a brave man, Dr Bashir." he said after a moment.

"I’m just well trained in ignoring other people’s negative opinions about me." Julian replied. He forced a small smile. "A good night’s sleep will certainly help."

Parmak nodded gravely. "Of course, I don’t believe there is anything left to talk about. Please don’t let me keep you. I see you for your shift, Doctor."

Julian’s room was expectedly empty now. Kalek was on shift. Someone had placed sheets on Julian’s bed. It felt almost wasteful putting them on the bed when he was still covered in sweat and dust. He could have really used a shower. Knowing he wouldn’t be getting one any time soon he instead spent twenty minutes with his dry soap and a pack of saniwipes. The result was respectable even if he still felt a little sticky. At least he didn’t feel like soiling his new sheets merely by touching them anymore.

He was less physically tired than he would have expected after a day of manual labour he wasn’t used to. He was much more mentally exhausted. He started to lazily unpack what little he had brought with him, rehashing today’s experiences. In his mind he went over what he had learned today, trying process some of it, see what could be improved, what impression he had made on the new people around him, what impression they had made on him. Parmak seemed nice enough, and quite competent, too. Lysal might not like him, but he couldn’t be sure yet. Kalek he hadn’t really met yet beyond a quick introduction over the head of a patient. The younger Lakar had been cool, but not unfriendly, as long as he worked to her satisfaction. And other than that there really was only Garak.

Julian replayed his first impression of his friend at his arrival in his mind once more. Thin and dirty, like everyone here, but other than that he didn’t seem to have changed much at all. He was still the same charming, slightly irritating, clever and composed man Julian remembered. Who seemed to be in charge of the village, no the district, now. And it did him good by all accounts. Julian had seen how the others treated him and he couldn’t help wonder if Garak had ever in his life been treated like this. He was clearly respected. Respected, not feared or distrusted. And it seemed to have taken a bit off of the chip on his shoulder. Julian smiled at the thought. He was happy for his friend. He could only imagine the last year must have been hard, but Garak seemed to have found his place. It was likely not what he had imagined his return home would look like but Julian doubted things would have turned out this well for his friend had he returned to the old Cardassia. And despite the dust, the heat, the destruction and death he found there was something about this new Cardassia that he liked.


	6. Chapter 6

Garak got up early as was his usual wont. He still didn’t sleep very well in his small dark room, even though he had managed to get used to it enough so he rarely ever suffered from claustrophobic attacks anymore. The small crack he had made into the blinds to let a slit of sunlight in helped. After years on a freezing space station he didn’t even mind the heat seeping in.

He dragged himself out of the house in his mind already planning what needed to be done today. After yesterday’s disaster they needed to regroup. Go through the things they had salvaged from the basements, see what they could use. He sighed. It had not been worth another life, not to mention the potentially irreparable damage Samal’s death had done to the doctor’s reputation with the people in the district. He had already heard them whisper during the evening meal. And that had been before the news of the man’s death had even been official.

Garak frowned. He only hoped they would come around eventually. Most of his fellow Cardassians, especially here in Torr had rarely encountered off-worlders and most of them had been raised to unquestioningly believe anything the government told them, including the common doctrines of Cardassian superiority and xenophobia. Some had started to question these believes in the wake of the Dominion bombardment, but Garak knew from painful experience how hard it was to break with so deeply ingrained ways of thinking. All he could do was to stand up as example and demonstrate his faith in the Doctor, and hope he would convince them of his qualities in time. Luckily Bashir wasn’t someone who gave up easily. To have him leave would be a disaster. Because they needed a second doctor, of course. Garak’s personal feelings were not relevant in this regard.

But for a moment he allowed himself to enjoy the fact that the Doctor was here.

It had been easier than he had thought to get Bashir to be reassigned to Torr, he hadn’t even needed to assert much of his feeble influence with the interim government. He owed one of the minister’s a favour now and Garak suspected that had been the main reason for the man to accommodate him so easily. It had been worth it though. Torr needed another Doctor. Parmak was a capable man, but he was only one man and every man needed to sleep. And if his assistance came in the shape of an enthusiastic and compassionate Starfleet doctor who just happened to be an old friend of Garak’s, well, who could say anything against that. After the year he had had, Garak felt entitled enough to selfishly want something nice in his life that wasn’t related to the satisfaction of a successful salvage or an extra ration bar. Now all he could do was hope the doctor wouldn’t be scared off by the workload that would be expected from him. He had been admirably amendable yesterday, but he might still change his mind and return to a post where he only had to man a clinic. Garak was well aware, that most other districts did things differently.

He turned his head when he heard steps advancing on him. As if summoned by his musings Doctor Bashir made his way towards him. He moved carefully as if he didn’t fully trust the ground, but at the same time looked around himself with the same open look he had had on his first days on DS9, probably for the first time taking in the area in what to him would have been normal light.

Garak had always enjoyed watching Bashir when they weren’t on the station. His friend looked different in different lights. Last prisok’pey had been one lovely facet of this. Between the Cardassians, whose pale skin almost glowed in the dim light, reflecting every bit of moonlight that fell on them, Bashir with his dusky skin had seemed almost like a shadow moving among them. Wearing his light coloured MAW uniform he had strongly reminded Garak of one of those human ghosts the doctor had forced him to read about once.

Now in the red light of the last rays of the sun on the other hand Bashir had never seen more alive and corporeal as he strode towards Garak. At least the colors of the MAW uniform suited him better than the horrible greenish blue and lavender gray of his Starfleet uniforms. The uniform was coloured and patterned to fit in with Cardassian medical workers, to be immediately recognisable to the local population and the fabric was light and breathable to accommodate for the high temperatures. The cut, however, was still a Federation uniform clearly designed by an amateur who had attempted to create something suitable for all body shapes, which naturally resulted in a design that did nothing for any body shape. And what a shame that was if one had such a shapely body as the dear doctor.

"Morning." Bashir greeted his friend cheerfully.

"Good morning, my dear Doctor. I trust you slept well?"

"Better than I have in months. Must be physical labour." he grinned, "But I also didn’t have my own room since I came to Cardassia. I certainly missed that."

Garak raised an eyeridge. "I didn’t know you had your own room Doctor." he noted. Single rooms were still rare. Garak only had one because he had volunteered to sleep in a tiny closet that didn’t fit more people. He had decided he could do better with the confined space than with a room mate.

"Well, technically I share with Kalek," the doctor said, "but we work opposing shifts at the moment, so it’s as good as."

Garak nodded. "I see. Well, I’m glad. We need you fighting fit as you have certainly seen yesterday."

"Yes, I was getting the impression yours is very much an all hands approach."

Garak smiled at the odd sound of this very human expression in Kardassi. He had been positively surprised to hear the Doctor speak his language, rather than use the universal translator the Federation was so fond of. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. With the doctor’s enhanced memory learning a new language was likely no more difficult than calculating statistical probabilities. It was none the less delightful, and it came with an accent that did funny things to Garak’s insides.

"Indeed." he agreed, "We have found that we cannot afford to waste any resources, be it supplies or manpower. Speaking of which, Doctor, please do not hesitate to ask for as much water as you need. Me, and I’m sure Dr Parmak as well, are well aware you will need more than the average Cardassian, and fortunately we have managed to secure a decent supply that should last us until the next rain season on top of the government provided provisions."

Bashir nodded. "I’ve seen the basins yesterday. I assume that’s what the tarped areas are. More empty basements?"

"Indeed. We cleared out some last year and used them to collect rainwater during the wet season. It’s made us more independent from the water rations and government supplies. You see, there is no need for you to hold back in that regard."

Bashir nodded slowly. "I see that there might not be a necessity, but I don’t want to come across as though I demand special treatment. It’s bad enough the other’s have to organise their shifts to cater my needs. And Dr Parmak reminded me that yesterday‘s events might not have made the best first impression of me."

"You’ll need more special treatment if you collapse of dehydration and overheating than if you get an extra water ration and shifts during the cooler part of the day." Garak pointed out, "As for your first impression, I’m afraid the good Doctor Parmak is right; loosing a patient on your first day will certainly not do much to inspire trust in you. Not that I’m saying there was anything you could have done differently. Personally I have every faith in you, Doctor. But yes, people will find it difficult to adjust to you, I’m afraid that is something we’ll have to live with. I wish things were different, but unfortunately they exactly as they are." he said referring to more than just his countrymen’s xenophobic attitude. There was no point in sugar coating things for Bashir. He was smart enough to understand and not naive enough anymore to expect perfection where there was none to be found.

Bashir nodded again. "I can’t really say I expected anything different." he said, proving his friend’s assumption and Garak recognised the look of determination on his face. "But I’m here now and these people are my patients. If they like me or not is secondary."

"I’m so glad to hear you say that Doctor." Garak said and allowed a genuine smile onto his face. He hoped it was visible under the breathing mask.

It seemed to be, because Bashir returned it before he did eventually turn his eyes towards the last rays of sunshine a moment later.

"Well, that being said, I really hope it’ll get cooler as prisok’pey progresses." he said with a theatrical sigh.

"I’m sure it will" Garak assured him. "We’re already more than halfway through the dry season. It’ll only get colder. We should get the first rain in three or four months."

"They can’t come fast enough if you ask me." Bashir commented.

Garak wiggled his head a little. "I don’t know Doctor. There is still a lot to do before the rain comes. More basements being the foremost concern I’m afraid."

Bashir groaned. "Today?" he asked.

Garak shook his head. "Not today, Doctor. We need to give people time to deal with yesterday‘s mishap and there are other things to do. But I expect we’ll be taking off more floors in three, four days."

The Doctor looked a little subdued, but nodded. "I understand." he sighed again, "On that note, I should see how my patient is doing, I’m afraid he won’t be much use for you for the next month or so. Without an osteoregenerator broken bones take absurdly long to heal."

He quickly pressed his palm to Garak‘s and headed back inside. Garak remained there for a moment longer. He wondered when and how the Doctor had decided their relationship warranted this kind of greeting. He never had seemed to feel like that back on the station, even though he had observed Garak exchange the gesture with Ziyal, and Garak was fairly certain he had explained the meaning to the doctor then. Although on second thought that might have been the Changeling. But even later the doctor had never attempted yut’amn until their meeting here on Cardassia. He had surprised Garak, but he had happily accepted the offered palm, even though he wondered: Had the two months the Doctor had previously spend on Cardassia changed his perspective or had his outlook on their relationship changed. Possibly both? Garak smiled to himself. He liked a good puzzle and Bashir had always been that, even with everything he had learned about the man over the years.

"Oh, Garak?"

He looked up again, to find the Doctor had returned, though he remained a few steps further away he had before.

"Apparently I’m supposed to do ‘rounds’ today. I gather it’s essentially house visits, since the clinic is rather small."

Garak nodded in confirmation. "Indeed Doctor. As you are responsible for the health of the district, we ask you to also look after those who cannot come to the clinic, or have been released into ambulant care, since, as you say, the clinic has limited capacities. The practice has the neat side effect that this way you can also make sure the general living conditions aren’t detrimental to your patients health." he explained.

Bashir let out a dry laugh. "Doctor cum health inspector. I see. Well, the thing is I don’t really know my way around here yet. I would ask Lysal, but I guess someone needs to man the clinic, so..." he trailed of awkwardly.

"I’ll find someone to show you around." Garak promised.

The Doctor’s face lit up immediately. "Thank you, Garak. Tell them I’ll meet them at the clinic in an hour." and with that he was truly off.

Garak nodded to himself. He had just the right person for the job. Slowly he got moving and made his way to find Aleya Tomila.

Tomila was a young girl who had only recently turned 16 which made her, by Cardassian standards, an adult and therefore responsible to contribute her share to the community. Unfortunately she was of a rather diminutive stature, not helped by the constant lack of sufficient nutrition for a growing adolescent. This made her rather useless for any of the harsh manual labour which was what was currently mostly needed. At the moment she helped out with watching the children, but she wasn’t really needed there and had too little of an education herself to be a teacher. No, she would do better helping the doctor acclimate, Garak decided.

The young woman beamed when he explained her new task to her. Garak silently congratulated himself on his ingenuity. She was clever and curious, if unschooled, so he had no doubt she would learn a lot from Bashir, who would no doubt be happy to tell her everything she wanted to know and then some. She was young enough to find a human fascinating and exotic rather than disconcerting, and she was eager to help out, all of which made her the ideal assistant for the doctor on his rounds. Apart from that, her presence by the doctor’s side would make him seem less threatening and her company would go a long way to sooth the reservations his patients would have against him. That at least was what Garak hoped.

A part of him wished he could be the one to accompany Bashir, but it was an idle thought. He knew all too well he would be more than busy today doing any number of the hundred little things that fell to him as the districts pur nim. No, Tomila was a good choice. And besides it wouldn’t do to babysit the doctor, no matter how happy he was to see him again and whether he selfishly didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe credit fort he entire concept of different kinds of Cardassian hand touches goes to tinsnip. I’m still a little confused about which is called what, but if I got it right yut’amn is the straight palm to palm touch, as Garak does with Ziyal on the show, which is for friends and family. The more intimate interlacing of fingers is called yut’mer and it’s very much not done in public. That’s what I’m going for with this one at least.


	7. Chapter 7

Garak met the Doctor again at lunch, shadowed dutifully by his new guide, who was smart enough to disappear into the crowd when Bashir approached the pur nim.

"Thank you for sending me Tomila." the Doctor said with a smile, "She’s proven quite helpful. She’s a smart girl."

Garak was happy to hear it. It gave him the courage to suggest something he had been thinking of after he had sent the girl to accompany the doctor.

"I‘m glad to hear it, my dear doctor. I have high hopes for her." he said loud enough for the girl who he knew was still hovering nearby to overhear it.

Bashir grinned. He leaned in a little and whispered theatrically "I think my patients trust her more than me."

Garak had no doubt about that, but it wouldn’t do to tell the doctor that that had been a consideration in sending the girl. Instead he came forward with his suggestion:

"I have been thinking, Doctor, if it would be a good idea for you to take her on as your official assistant. If you’re up for it, of course."

Bashir frowned. "What exactly would that entail?" he asked, laudable suspicion colouring his voice. Garak suppressed a smile.

"Well, Tomila is an orphan, so for you to offer her such a position would imply that you would accept a mentor position for her that would set her firmly on the path towards the medical profession. The offer would entail that you teach her as much as you can without compromising your own work and that you support and champion her should she ever be able to go to a university. You’d be offering your time and your reputation."

Bashir’s frown deepened. "Is that what she wants?" he asked.

"She is an orphan of no family and no standing, and while I personally hope that things will change in our society, so far that means she will have little opportunity. Your profession is an honourable one; frankly it would be stupid of her to refuse you as a mentor."

"And I could do that, even though I’m an alien? Wouldn’t Dr Parmak be the better candidate?" Bashir still seemed wary of the idea, which was a good thing, Garak told himself. Learning about the doctor’s genetic enhancements had convinced Garak that his friend probably considered the consequences of his actions a lot more thoroughly than it had always appeared, but it was still comforting to see that he approached his suggestion with the necessary caution and seriousness. Being Tomila’s te’aladik was not something that could easily be disregarded and Garak had consciously brought it up to test how far Bashir was currently willing to involve himself with Cardassia and with this community. Of course it wouldn’t be saying much if he declined other than that he didn’t intend to bind himself to any long term commitment he might not be able to fulfil, but it would be interesting to see how he did it none the less.

"I had considered that, unfortunately Dr Parmak has a criminal record, which disqualifies him from the position. Again, since his crime was a political one, I’m hoping it will be regarded as a batch of honour rather than a stain on his record in our new times, but you know me, Doctor, I’m not naturally an optimist. And I’d hate for Tomila to not be able to pursue this career after all, because of a formality like that."

Bashir nodded slowly. "I see. So a political criminal is unsuitable, but an alien is allowed?"

Garak noted with interest that he didn’t ask about any details regarding Dr Parmak’s arrest, as he certainly would have a few years ago. The dear doctor had done a lot of growing up since Garak had met him that much was obvious.

"I doubt there has ever been an alien who has offered this to a Cardassian, Doctor. And in my experiences laws only prohibit things that are considered possible."

"Seems like just as much risk to me to rely on a legal back door." Bashir commented sceptically, "But I’ll think about it. It’s not something I can decide on my second day here, after knowing her for all of three hours." he explained, "Let her help out in the clinic for a bit and we’ll see how she’s doing, before I decide, alright?"

"Certainly, Doctor. Let me know when you have made up your mind. For the time being I’m happy to have a place for the girl where she can be useful."

"That she will certainly be." Bashir smiled.

Well, that had gone better than he had hoped. He hadn’t truly expected Bashir to actually consider it. Maybe he had underestimated the Doctor’s ingrained need to help or his faith in his federation ideals of self-fulfilment and equal chances. As it was he hadn’t said no yet, which gave Garak the courage to ask a little more directly:

"Tell me Doctor, I’m a little vague on the specifics of your posting here. Starfleet has a way of obfuscating things in that regard that is quite unlike them. While I would normally laude their efforts, in this case it makes things a little difficult to asses. I assume you haven’t resigned your commission to come here?"

Julian rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Garak could tell he didn’t believe for a second that he didn’t understand the specifics of his posting. Well, he probably had made some experience with Cardassian bureaucracy since coming here. But again he didn’t call him out.

"I’m on detached service from DS9 to the Federation Relief Effort on Cardassia." Bashir supplied in a tone that implied he was only humoring Garak, "It’s a voluntary and open ended assignment. No one wanted to put an expiration date on needed aid. What that means is I’m here as long as I’m needed or until I’m fed up with your planet. Then I return to my job on the station or whatever other assignment I’m given. Unless of course anything unforeseen happens, like another war or something else that makes my services to Starfleet first priority."

Garak nodded understanding, careful to keep his face inscrutable. That was about what he had expected. Only the Federation would come up with a position that did not demand any form commitment for a predetermined period of time. Just ‘stay as long as you like’. He felt more like shaking his head than nodding. How was anyone supposed to make any kind of long term plan with that sort of thing?

"And why did you leave the station, if I may ask? Working in such a divers, yet orderly environment must be more to your taste than setting bones in a dusty wasteland with no equipment to speak of."

Bashir couldn’t hide a smile. "I’d never thought I’d hear you speak of Cardassia like that." he teased. Neither would I, Garak thought, unfortunately it is the sad truth.

"You’re right, I liked the work on DS9, but there were too many spaces there." the Doctor turned serious. Garak raised a questioning eyeridge.

"Spaces?" he asked.

"Empty spaces in the shape of people that were no longer there, you know." Bashir explained. "Sisko’s and Odo’s offices, Dax’s and Worf’s stations in Ops, a dartboard at Quark’s. A tailor shop on the promenade, a table at the replimat."

The Doctor hesitated for a moment. Garak very firmly ignored the sudden rush of endorphins in his body at the mention of the places his friend obviously associated with him. It was rather pathetic to be so happy at the other man’s admission that he had missed him.

"I thought Colonel Kira had taken over the Captain’s office." he commented. "And I’m fairly sure someone must have rented out the retail space."

Bashir glowered at him. "Of course she has and yes, there is a new shop in there. A Tarkalean jeweller, in case you wanted to know. And yes, people still play darts and sit at the table and personnel has been replaced. I know the spaces aren’t actually empty, thank you very much. It’s just not the same, that’s all I’m saying."

He shovelled a few spoonfuls of Oktar’s creation of the day into his mouth and continued to glare at Garak for a few more seconds. The Cardassian continued to eat undisturbed, only allowing a small smile to show on his face to indicate he had deliberately been riling up his friend.

"Somehow after the war everybody went back home, I guess." Bashir continued after a moment, apparently appeased for now, "Miles to Earth, Worf to Quo’Nos, Odo to his people, you to Cardassia. Even Rom and Leeta left for Ferenginar. It was only me, Kira and Ezri left. And Quark of course. I think he might still be there when they haul the station down to be disassembled. And then Ezri got her reassignment and it was only me and Nerys, and I realised, she already is home and I..."

"You could have gone back to Earth." Garak intervened.

Bashir shook his head. "Earth has never been home for me. And with everything that’s happened I doubt it ever will be. The only thing drawing me there would have been Miles."

Garak nodded. From everything he knew about the Doctor, this made sense.

"So you came here instead." It was the logical alternative. It also told him two very important things: one, the Doctor considered Cardassia a worthy patient, and two he had specifically come because Garak was here. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about either of those things.

"You don’t seem surprised."

It wasn’t a question, nor was Bashir surprised by Garak’s reaction himself. Apparently Garak was not the only one who had come to know his friend quite well.

"That you’d come to the planet where you could be of most use in the galaxy? Why would I?" Garak asked lightly.

"I could have gone to Betazed." Julian pointed out. "Plenty of Federation planets suffered destruction during the war."

"You could have," Garak conceded, deciding not to let this conversation get any more personal until he could decide what being a reason for Bashir to come here meant, "but where would be the adventure in that?"

The Doctor laughed. "And of course the only person I know on Betazed is Ambassador Troi. And with no disrespect for her, that isn’t exactly a major pull-factor."

"I always thought you’d appreciate her stile of clothing though." Garak replied dryly.

Bashir chuckled. "To be honest they were a little too flamboyant, even for me. She looked like a Christmas tree half the time." he admitted.

"Ah, so you are familiar with that concept." Garak couldn’t help teasing, "Too flamboyant, I mean."

Julian glared at him. "I was never that bad."

Garak gave him a sceptical look. "True, you don’t have the figure for a Christmas tree."

"You know what, maybe you’re right, maybe I should have gone to Betazed." Julian pouted.

"Then let me say on behalf of all my fellow Cardassians, and especially the citizens of Torr district, we are very grateful that you didn’t." Garak said in a rare show of genuine feeling.

"I’m quite glad myself." Julian replied with a happy smile.

The conversation naturally drifted back to the work they had been doing all morning. Bashir inquired about some of the patients he had seen and the buildings people lived in. Not all accommodations offered as much privacy as the mansion that housed the clinic, but from what Julian had seen mass accommodation was fortunately rare, with eight or ten bed rooms being the maximum, so far.

Garak in turn told him about some of the finds from the previous days they had now properly catalogued and stored, among them several bags of barely moulded halakla flour and some pieces of dried khen’nara meat the voles had somehow not gotten to yet. Halakla Bashir knew, but khen’nara he had never heard of, so Garak had to explain to him that it was a large sea mammal, bred and slaughtered for its meat and fat, which was traditionally a main component of many scale care products.

"Speaking of supplies" Garak mentioned, "I forgot to ask if you would be content to continue participating in our community’s policy of sharing. As you’re likely aware your food and water supply is provided by the Federation rather than the Cardassian government. Which means you probably receive more and better quality rations than the rest of us. It would be understandable, if you felt entitled to your own food, rather than sharing with us."

Bashir frowned and shook his head. He seemed almost insulted by the very idea.

"I’m perfectly happy to share whatever there is. This," he nodded towards his, by now empty bowl, "is a great deal better than anything I could do with my rations, if I had the time and the patience to do much with them. If my supplies can help liven up everybody’s meal once in a while, by all means use them."

Garak smiled pleasantly. "That is very generous of you doctor. I have to warn you, though, should we be facing another famine I will insist you keep your rations to yourself again."

"Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it," the doctor replied diplomatically, "And let’s hope it doesn’t get that bad."

He frowned slightly. "I might need to work out a way to supplement my food, since I need slightly different nutrition than Cardassian’s but that shouldn’t be too difficult. I just need to know what the Cardassian rations entail and compare it to the Federation ones and then..." he got lost in some medical jargon as he went through various options. Garak listened contentedly. It was strangely soothing to listen to Bashir once again putting his own comfort and potentially safety behind the common good. The Doctor was almost Cardassian in that sense and always had been. Of course Garak had never told him that and likely never would, just like he would likely never tell him how much pleasure he took from having his friend here and hear him talk without a care in the world whether or not Garak could follow him. He would have to keep an eye on the Doctor’s eating though and make sure he actually received all the nutrients he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Te’aladik', the medical tutor is a term I derived from te’ala, ‘to teach’. In order to distinguish it from te’alakec ‘teacher’ I added the parental ‘adik’ to imply the much closer relationship between tutor and student. You can find a similar concept of a parental relationship between student and tutor in German, where a doctoral advisor is commonly referred to as ‘doctor father’ (in recent times ‘doctor mothers’ have also been known to exist).   
> The idea of ‘detached service’ comes directly from the show. It’s what they call it when Worf goes to serve on Martok’s ship during the war, so I figured it had to be an established convention in Starfleet.   
> Both 'halakla' and 'khen’nara' I've taken from the EKD. Halaka is defined as ‘wheat like grain’ and khen’nara as a ‘whale like animal’.


	8. Chapter 8

Garak continued his work in the afternoon in a surprisingly good mood. There had been more food preserves found in one of the basements, most of which were surprisingly still edible and one of the teams had salvaged a whole box full of isolinear rods. There wasn’t any way to ascertain what was on them at the moment of course, but Garak had made it a habit to store them in hopes of a time when they would once again have power and computers.

The clear-outs had also produced an array of tools, ranging from knives and scissors, to screwdrivers, hyper spanners, a phase compensator, several shovels and a slightly intimidating and likely ancient, hand operated hikcarUl, a harvesting tool optically similar to a human sickle.

All in all several useful things and some that might become useful one day. Unfortunately no more carts, which had been what Garak had secretly been hoping for. The undisputed treasure out of the lot was a full box of fertilizer. It wasn’t much if you were aiming for extensive agriculture, since it was intended for a flower garden, but if Garak had learned anything in the last year it was that every little bit helped.

They stored their supplies in four smaller outbuildings that had survived while the manor they had once belonged to had not. One housed the food, one the tools, one for raw materials and one for, as Eltek rather poetically called it ‚the future‘, stuff they couldn’t use at the moment but that might come in handy one day.

Eltek was one of the original inhabitants of the district, a former housekeeper who had served one of the dignitaries in the grand houses. His master, a legat of the third order, had never returned, and Garak was fairly sure had been among the casualties of one of the more disastrous battles, but the old man had faithfully remained. He had been invaluable during the first months when many displaced and injured people had arrived in what was left of Torr, and he and Garak had quickly established a fruitful working relationship. After Garak’s appointment to pur nim Eltek had become his right hand man in many ways and something akin to a friend. Eltek sometimes reminded him of Tolan, the gardener, in the humble and humorous way he held himself.

"Shame about Samal." Eltek commented, while they stuffed a sack of grimmit into the gap left by today’s lunch. "Sure that federaji s'h'iosr'ha is up to the job?"

Garak kept his face impassive. Eltek wasn’t maliciously xenophobic, he reminded himself. At least not that he knew of. But he was voicing doubts most of the districts inhabitants likely shared.

"The people of Umpar didn’t have any complaints, as far as I know." he said neutrally, "I’d give him a week and confer with Dr Parmak."

Eltek hummed non-committal.

"He’s a friend of yours." It wasn’t a question, unsurprisingly. Half the district had probably witnessed their initial meeting and any new member of the community was inevitably going to be the centre of all sorts of gossip, even if he didn’t happen to be an alien. Garak had decided as soon as he had gotten the confirmation that Bashir would be transferred to Torr that hiding his friendship with the Doctor would be neither practical nor practicable. It was common knowledge that he had spent several years in exile among aliens, as well as that he had been in the Obsidian Order. Full disclosure on his past had been a condition to become pur nim, a measure Garak in principle approved of, even if it made him a little uneasy on a more personal level. At the time he had been sure it would make people change their minds about accepting him in the position and several had, but miraculously the majority of the district had still elected to appoint him for the position. And full disclosure only went so far, of course. The matter of his parentage and his exact position in the order, as well as the reason for his banishment where still well kept secrets.

"Yes, I have known Dr Bashir several years." he confirmed therefore, "Which is why I know what he is capable of."

"The young Lakar seems to be pleased with his work." Eltek conceded, "At least he doesn’t seem to expect special treatment."

"He has actually offered to add his rations to the communal supplies." Garak said, glad he had raised the issue with the doctor over lunch.

Eltek raised an eyeridge. "What does he expect in return?"

"He’ll need to make some nutritional adjustments but that is only to be expected. And he’ll need more water than most of us. Human’s aren’t well equipped to deal with heat." Garak replied.

"He picked the right planet then." Eltek commented dryly.

Garak chuckled. "I’m afraid Human’s are also rather prone to sentiment and romanticism."

The other man gave him a long, probing look, but didn’t comment.

"Maybe I should meet him, before I make my judgement." he said after a moment, "He must be something, if you trust him, Garak."

Garak was uncharacteristically and inexplicably nervous as the evening arrived. He tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a big deal for Eltek to acquaint himself with Bashir. It would happen sooner rather than later. But since the former housekeeper had declared his intention to meet the new doctor, he seemed to have come to the conclusion that the sooner he got it done and over with the better. So when they returned to the square by the clinic for dinner and Eltek determinedly headed for the doctor as soon as he had his bowl, Garak couldn’t help feeling a little anxious. He hurried after his friend to soften the clash a little. To his great relief Eltek slowed down, clearly expecting him to introduce the two to each other. Bashir naturally had noticed the elderly Cardassian coming his way and threw Garak a questioning look.

"Doctor, this is Avis Eltek. Eltek, Doctor Julian Bashir." he made the introductions. Bashir tilted his head and raised his hand in a gesture of formal greeting. An amused smirk tugged on Eltek’s mouth has he returned the gesture.

"He has very pretty manners, your s'h'iosr'ha. " he noted.

"My supervisor in Umpar insisted I learn the proper form. She was quite fond of formalities." Bashir replied lightly.

Eltek nodded. "Ah, that would explain it." he said

"This gesture is an address to a socially superior." Garak explained to the clearly befuddled Doctor.

"And?" Bashir inquired, clearly still missing a piece.

"Eltek is from the service class. Being a doctor you’re socially far above him."

"I don’t think anyone’s ever greeted me like that in my life." the older Cardassian chuckled.

A grin stole onto Bashir’s face. "Well, being the pur nim’s aid and friend, I’d say that makes us at least equal." he decided.

Eltek raised an eyeridge in surprise.

"Garak might have mentioned you in his messages." Bashir explained.

The older man adjusted his head to level the nonplussed look at Garak. He had, hadn’t he? He had written to the Doctor about some of the people he worked with here, in a silly wish to let his friend somehow participate in his new life. Writing about Eltek, Parmak and the others, those that lived and helped, had often been easier than writing about the death, destruction and misery. Making it look as if he had something resembling friends had made him feel less alone on days when he had missed Bashir, Ziyal, Odo and even Dax and Kira with an intensity that had surprised and overwhelmed him. It had made it possible to hide from Bashir just how hopeless and desperate he had been some days. He assumed that Bashir had at least suspected that his messages where occasionally rather liberal interpretations of the truth but he had clearly read enough between the lines to make at least a good guess at the relationship he had with Eltek.

"I could hardly give the good doctor an idea of what live on Cardassia was like without mentioning some of the many helping hands." he said smoothly.

Eltek inclined his head.

"You both do me great honors tonight." he said.

"No more than you did honor me by suggesting me as pur nim." Garak replied decidedly. Suffice to say he would never have put himself forward for the position. He still did not think he deserved the trust the people of Torr had put into him by appointing him to the role.

"So that was you?" Bashir asked interested, "I had been wondering how that happened. No offense Garak, but I never thought of you in a role like this."

"Me neither, my dear, me neither. But we do what we can and what must be done."

Eltek shrugged dismissively. "He was already doing the work." he told Bashir, "It seemed only right he should get the title to match. And when we heard he’d been with the Obsidian Order and spend some time off-world..."

"I would have thought that would rather put people off." Bashir inquired.

Another shrug. "Sure, some. But it means he knows how to work in politics and he knows people, people who can help." Eltek explained, "And looking at you, it seems we were right." He eyed the human up and down.

"How did you come to be a doctor?" he asked finally, "Is it usual for a..." he stumbled a little and looked at Garak for help.

"Human." he prompted.

"Ah, yes, for a human male?"

Bashir nodded. "Yes it is quite normal. As it is for women. We don’t ascribe the sexes particular dominance in either field of study anymore."

"But you did once? Then I assume you find us terribly backwards in that regard." Eltek asked critically.

"Not necessarily." the doctor disagreed, "In the case of the humans the separation that we had originated in a hyper patriarchal system in which women were at some point in history barely allowed to work at all. They were supposed to be housewives and mothers, nothing more. With time and technological advances that status couldn’t be maintained anymore, so women were allowed to have a career, but were usually restricted to professions that were considered more menial, less prestigious, predominantly nursing, teaching and service work. It was often suggested that women weren’t capable of first more complex and later more influential professions, to keep them in a socially submissive role. We spend the last four hundred years undoing those prejudices and developing towards a society of equals.

"But that doesn’t mean I think the Cardassian order of things is backward. I don’t know what prompted the current order, so I don’t know what the underlying social forces are. There might even be an actual biological reason for that separation that doesn’t apply to humans. It also doesn’t seem to me like you’re ascribing certain characteristic to one sex in order to keep them in submission; I’ve seen both men and women in high political positions."

"That is true," Garak agreed, "we do share our political duties and social sciences equally. Neither sex seems to have the superior mentality for scheming it seems."

"Out of interest, what field is most populated by men?" Bashir asked.

"As you know, Doctor, women dominate sciences" Garak replied, "men on the other hand are the majority in the military and the arts."

"A logical combination, I’m sure." Bashir deadpanned.

"But to answer your original question" he returned to Eltek, "I always wanted to become a doctor, ever since I was a boy. Well, for a while I want to become a Tennis player. It’s an earth sport." he added by way of explanation, "But I always wanted to help people."

Eltek didn’t look much more convinced. "So you’re parents aren’t in that profession?"

Julian shuddered at the thought. His father was one of the least reliable, most selfish people he had ever known, possibly excepting Quark. Just thinking of him as a doctor send cold shivers down his back. "No, they’re not."

"And what do they do?"

For a moment Garak wondered if he should interfere, safe Julian from these rather intrusive questions. Eltek would have never been so indiscreet if he were talking to a Cardassian. But he was curious how Julian would react. Garak was reasonably sure that Julian was aware of Cardassian social norms enough to recognise Eltek’s rudeness, but still Federation enough to still answer him.

"They’re not doing much at the moment, I think." Bashir said, cautiously observing the Cardassian’s reaction, "The war put a lot of strain on them and they’re still working through it, I think. A lot has changed for my family; we’re haven’t all quite gotten back to where we were before, we might never get back to that in fact."

Garak nodded appreciatively of the Doctor’s answer. It was suitably honest to qualify as being truthful, yet obscure enough to satisfy Cardassian rules of politeness without really telling Eltek much, thereby clearly telling him that it was none of his business. Garak, who knew of Bashir’s past and his strained relationship with his parents, however, it told a lot. Bashir’s remark that the war had changed a lot for his family could be construed in all kinds of ways for someone who didn’t know him, but Garak knew he was referring to his exposure as an Augment and his father’s subsequent imprisonment. That would change a lot and as a Cardassian he could only understand too well how a prison sentence could put a strain on a relationship, not just between parents and a child but between spouses as well, which was what he red between the lines of Bashir’s reply. The arrest of one spouse was after all one of the few accepted grounds for a divorce on Cardassia.

He wondered how the Doctor felt about this. It was the first Garak heard of it; Bashir had never mentioned it in any of his letters. In his experience with the Doctor the things he didn’t mention were either those that didn’t concern him, or the ones that concerned him a lot. In this case Garak had difficulties asserting into which category the marital difficulties of his parents fell, for one because he was very much aware that there were massive cultural differences in the position of the family between humans and Cardassians, but also, because Garak didn’t have any experience with any sort of ‘normal’ family dynamics, considering his parents had never been a couple in any kind of traditional sense. He would have to inquire about the topic some time in private, maybe ask Lieutenant Dax about it, he decided.

Right now he was pleased to see that Eltek lowered his eyes, suitably chastised and said: "You must forgive my impropriety Doctor. I hope you can forgive an old man his curiosity at meeting his first off-worlder."

Bashir smiled honestly. "There is nothing to forgive. I’m happy to share any aspect of my culture. Humans tend to be much more open about such things than Cardassians. I’m trying not to offend you with my bluntness."

That gained him a little smile in return. "I’ll bear our cultural differences in mind, Doctor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hikcarUl (from carUl, ‘a curved knife’ and hik, ‘root‘ EKD.) I imagine looking like a sickle but a bit smaller and sturdier. It’s used to dig up and cut roots, so the outer rim would actually be the sharp one to cut the plants whereas the inner curve is used like a pick or hoe to dig up the roots. (The moment you realise you’re in way too deep is when you not only invent gardening tools that are mentioned exactly once, but also feel the need to explain it in detail, just because ;-)  
> Grimmit is defined as ‘red brown root-vegetable’ (EKD).  
> I’m aware that Julian’s summary of the history of women in society is both oversimplified and factually flawed, but Julian isn’t a historian. In fact his knowledge of any earth history is canonically incredibly bad, no matter the period (he doesn’t know much about either the Alamo, the Bell-Riots or Kirk’s Enterprise).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Selkie_Llian has generously offered to proof-read for me, so the all over quality of this should be much improved. Thank you :-)   
> All remaining errors are mine and likely wilful.

Walking though the streets of the capital Julian almost felt like a kid in a theme park. He’d been in Torr for nearly three weeks now and in getting back to the capital, he could suddenly appreciate how well things were here. There were people mingling in the streets, going about their business, there were open shops and Julian could even spot the odd new building peeking up between the old ones which were being restored. It almost felt like returning to civilisation, although Julian was no longer stupid enough to say something like that out loud. But the differences to Torr were dramatic and equally as exciting as they were depressing.

He had come to the capital accompanying Garak on his twice monthly trip here. Garak tried to negotiate for them to get soil transported to Torr so they could fill up the basements and turn them into fields. After the event with Samal he also wanted to try to get them better safety equipment and of course there was the ever present need for engineers and architects, more water filters, rations and medication. Their most realistic hope was the soil. Even the interim government couldn’t expect them to grow anything in concrete and dust.

Julian was heading to the Federation Aid Administration Centre to report on his new posting and the most urgent medical needs. Maybe he could get those anti-fungal meds Parmak wanted. He didn’t count on the NRIs but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Apart from that he would ask for more people to be sent to Torr and for much, much more soap.

He also wanted to check if he had gotten any messages. Due to the lack of planet wide communication relays, he could only receive them at the centre and some of the outposts on the other continents. One of the advantages of Torr was that he might be able get to the centre more often than he had when he had still been in Umpar. He still couldn’t make it more than once every month, probably less, though. Parmak had to cover for him every time he went to the capital and because the transporter only went to Torr every third day it was always a three-day trip. Julian had considered walking back. It would take him a couple of hours, but he could be back after a day and a half instead of three. The others had advised against it. Garak and Parmak had told him the area was not safe, especially not for an off-worlder who didn’t know the territory and Tomila had made a face like he had told her the Dominion was coming back. Lysal had called him something he had never heard before, but he was pretty sure translated loosely to loony.

So, Julian would only be checking his messages every other month or so, at least until there were more regular traffic routes available. It wasn’t like he had a lot of people who were going to write to him anyway. Mostly it would probably be Miles and Ezri, maybe Kira and his mother every now and then.

"I wrote Ezri that I was being moved to another district the last time,” he told Garak on their way from the transport station, "I might have mentioned a suspicion that you were involved in that."

"And here they keep telling us the Federation believes in innocence until proven guilty," Garak chided good naturedly, "I hope, you will disabuse her of that notion now that you know the truth."

Julian couldn’t hide a grin. "And what truth would that be?"

Garak’s eyes widened innocently. "That I had nothing to do with bringing you here at all, of course," he said, "And I really must insist that you tell her as much, or else I will be subjected to a very long message from _Counselor_ Dax and her attempts to psychoanalyse me and my motives, for which, as charming as it might be under different circumstances, I simply have no time."

Julian laughed heartedly at his friend. "I might just cheer her on to do that, if I thought I could bribe her into telling me the results." he admitted with a sly grin. Then he suddenly turned serious. "Speaking of Ezri, I feel I should apologise on behalf of both of us for how we handled things during our break-up. We shouldn’t have dragged you into it like this."

Julian and Ezri’s relationship, formed in the war partially on the solid foundation of ‘we might die any moment‘ and partially out of a heady mix of mutual confusion, loneliness, attraction and genuine fondness had gone well, if not spectacularly, for a couple of months. After the war, they had helped each other alleviate the loneliness and the strangeness of re-adapting to peace and normalcy on the station that was suddenly empty of most of their friends.

However, as time went on, the ghosts of the past started to creep in, or rather they started to notice more and more how much they were still both captives of the past. The things they didn’t want to do because it reminded them too much of someone who wasn’t there, places they didn’t want to go, even things they didn’t like to eat or drink anymore because it was too tinged in memories to be shared with the wrong person.

Things had come to a head, when Julian had found out that, pretty much since the end of the war, the Symbiosis Committee had been more or less subtly bullying Ezri, to leave him and DS9 to "start her own life, rather than continuing to live Jadzia’s", as one of the messages had rather bluntly put it. The fight that had followed this discovery had revealed Ezri’s lingering identity issues. While she had more or less learned to separate her own life from her previous hosts, she still had deep rooted insecurities about it and didn’t fully trust her ability to do so, especially when it came to her feelings. Worse than that, Ezri didn’t trust Julian either in that regard. A part of her was still convinced that being with her was Julian’s subconscious attempt to be with Jadzia. To their mutual frustration, nothing Julian did or said could completely convince her otherwise, until he was nearly convinced that she might be right.

After several weeks of going in circles, Ezri had decided to heed the Committee’s advice, not for the symbiont but for herself. Continuing to live in Jadzia’s shadow on DS9 was not doing her any favours in regard to defining her own identity and it was already smothering her relationship with Julian. So she had done the only right thing for herself and applied for a transfer to start over as the new Dax, properly this time. Julian had understood her decision and had to agree that it was the right choice for her, but that didn’t make it easier for him to accept. The weeks leading up to and after the break-up had been difficult and he had poured a lot of it into his messages to Garak.

As it turned out, he hadn’t been the only one who had kept in contact with the Cardassian. Ezri, too, had forged a friendship with her former patient and written to him and so, worlds away, Garak had somehow ended up right in the middle of it all.

"Oh, not at all my dear. It was a delightfully entertaining distraction. I didn’t have much time for literature at the time but yours and Dax’ messages were a suitable, though a lot less well written, substitute." Garak replied with a shrug.

Julian rolled his eyes. "I’m glad my broken heart made for titillating reading." he said sarcastically.

"I assume the melodramatic qualities of your break-up were more evident from the outside," Garak returned dryly, "but then I would have even read your Shakespeare if it had distracted me from thinking about my growling stomach and how people were dying all around me."

Julian swallowed dryly. Five months after the end of war Cardassia had suffered from a terrible famine and a severe lack of drinkable water. It had only been the mounting death toll that had finally forced Cardassia to accept help from its neighbours, where it had previously rebuffed every attempt at outside support like a wounded animal snapping at anyone trying to get near. Of course Garak’s letters had barely even hinted at how dire things had really been while his friends had poured their hearts out to him.

"I’m sorry." Julian murmured, thoroughly chastised. "I don’t think I will ever be able to imagine what you must have gone through that first year. We must have seemed incredibly callous to you."

To his surprise Garak shook his head. "Thoughtless maybe and most certainly a little ridiculous, but I know both of you well enough to know callous is not a word that describes either of you. You’re far too sentimental for that." he added, and Julian almost laughed again. "Besides, I meant what I said: There is little better than other people’s problems to make you forget your own."

"Well, I promise I’ll be more considerate next time." Julian vowed.

Garak raised an eyeridge. "Next time, Doctor?"

"Well, I really hope this wasn’t the last time I’ll ever fall in love. That would be a dreadfully depressing thought."

They split up in front of the pompous building the interim government had taken to using. According to Garak, it used to house a lower civil court, which Julian had been a little surprised even existed on Cardassia. Despite Garak’s fervent critique of his unjust prejudices they didn’t have the time to argue the point and instead agreed to postpone the discussion for dinner, since lunch hour had long passed.


	10. Chapter 10

Julian’s report at the administration centre went about as well as he had expected. The administrator in charge took his requests and suggestions, and promised to do what they could. They did promise more soap at least. Julian didn’t blame them. Every meagre distribution that wasn’t specifically for the volunteers had to be cleared with the interim government and as he had heard plenty over the last three weeks, Torr was no priority. It still frustrated him. He still had a patient with several broken bones, only because he didn’t have a working osteoregenerator. By now he had allowed Zekim to leave the clinic, but he still had Kalek check on him every other day and couldn’t allow the man any strenuous work. The fungal infection that Dr Parmak had worried about at his arrival had spread to more than ten people who were now constantly coughing and slightly nauseated. They had at least two cases of people who needed proper psychological treatment or at the very least some good sleeping aid, otherwise they were bound to cause harm to themselves and likely others. And those were only the most acute cases, not even considering the general weak state of health and the fact that his presence didn’t solve the problem that the clinic was still woefully understaffed. He tried to push the resentment away. There were likely issues like this in every district and resources were still extremely limited. He could only hope for the best at this point. Maybe Garak had better luck.

Julian indeed had new messages from Miles, Ezri, his mother and somewhat surprisingly, a message from Jake Sisko. It was good to hear from all of them. Julian soaked up stories of the O’Brien children. Yoshi was currently obsessed with a Bajoran ghost story Miles could at this point recite backwards in his sleep, and Molly had her first crush on a boy in her school. A boy who was now the recipient of Miles O’Brien’s undivided scrutiny, much to Keiko’s amusement and Molly’s deeply felt embarrassment. Julian in turn told him about the new people he had met in Torr, especially Tomila, who was only just over two years older than Molly, he realised with a bit of a start. Since Miles was now a professor himself it was only logical to ask his opinion about mentoring the girl. Julian still hadn’t made up his mind about it. He liked her - she was fast learning and clever. He had no doubt she had it in her to become a great doctor, but he was still not convinced that being mentored by an alien would not hinder more than help. Besides, he had the sneaking suspicion that this was a life-long commitment he wasn’t sure he was ready for.

His mother told him she had moved back to England and had gotten in contact with her cousin again, one she hadn’t spoken to since Julian’s genetic enhancement. He replied with his usual detached and meaningless phrases, giving the minimum of information possible to keep her from worrying. Neither of them mentioned his father. He knew that his parents had had difficulties since his father had come out of jail. Richard hadn’t written to him a single time, apparently deeply offended Julian hadn’t visited him. Because serving in a war was clearly not a good reason to stay away. Clearly his mother had hoped their relationship would somewhat improve now that the truth was out and was now deeply disappointed that it hadn’t. From what Julian read between the lines of her letters she blamed his father. He suspected it was only the last thing in a long line of issues between the two.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the prospect that his parents might split up. On the one hand, he could only congratulate his mother for finally showing the appropriate reaction to his father’s antics. On the other hand, in his mind his parents had always been a unit, one entity rather than two individuals. The thought of that unit breaking apart felt like yet another constant in his life was being taken from him. In the end he had resigned himself to the fact there wasn’t anything he could do to affect the events either way. It wasn’t his life, but his mother’s. She didn’t tell him about it and he didn’t ask and that way he could ignore it for the time being. He sent his message and moved on to Ezri’s.

Ezri’s message was a light mixture of an account of her own adventures - a hilarious tale of meeting Captain Boday again, a space anomaly that had disabled the Universal Translator - and teasing questions about his new posting and Garak. Julian dutifully relayed Garak’s message regarding her counselling but added his own lingering suspicion. He told her about the situation in Torr, the new challenges of spelunking and sifting through debris, and about Garak, his position, the way he was working tirelessly for the welfare of his people and how he seemed to flourish being back to serving Cardassia.

Finally he turned to Jake’s message. He and Jake had not stayed much in contact. Their relationship had always been a tentative one, especially after the events of Ajlion Prime and even more so after the reveal of Julian’s enhancements. They had a certain affinity towards each other but had been shaped by too different experiences to ever truly find much common ground.

After the war, the younger man had left DS9 for Earth to finally take up his writing scholarship in New Zealand. Julian had only heard from him via Kira via Kassidy, who had followed him back to earth less than a year later. Apparently Jake had now finished school and was looking about to continue working as a writer and reporter. He mentioned that not much information came out of Cardassia regarding the situation of the people and asked for Bashir’s opinion. Without any detailed information Jake seemed to simply assume he was with Garak which took the doctor a little by surprise.

Julian took some time to reply. He tried to give an accurate description of the situation as he saw it in the different places he had been to, while at the same time impress on Jake that the Cardassian people would probably not appreciate any sensational piece about their misery. "They have achieved extraordinary things, considering what they have suffered through. They are some of the toughest, most hard-working people I have ever met, except maybe the Bajorans, but like the Bajorans they are a proud people. They don’t want pity and they don’t want to be a spectacle," he wrote. "That being said, we could always use more volunteers and more donations," he continued, "Not just medical personnel, though that’s as much needed as anything, but also engineers and really anyone who would lend a helping hand. Infrastructure is still at a minimum in most places and rebuilding seems to be limited to the major cities at the moment. In most other places it’s still mostly about surviving."

He relayed his own experience of the basement clear outs. Since that first day, Julian had been present at five more such salvaging runs. Fortunately, there had been no further accidents on those days. Julian had, however, been helping with the debris sorting and hauling up the finds every time. He told Jake about the handwritten patient records the hospital kept like a small fort of civilisation in the chaos. Writing them presented a whole different challenge to Julian. Like every Federation citizen he had learned to write manually in his first year of school (or rather in his first week on Adigeon Prime in his case) and had then never used the skill again except for the odd time in the holosuite. Never in his life had he written in Kardassi before. Accordingly his penmanship was barely legible and looked like that of a small child, which gave Lysal endless cause for snide remarks. When he sent the letter, he felt he had given Jake a good idea of what life on Cardassia was like while also conveying a decent view on its people, as well as he knew how to after nearly two and a half months on the planet.

Garak looked tired when they met for dinner. Apparently he had spent most of the day negotiating the cultivation plans, which caused more conflict than Julian would have expected. Someone from the district had apparently petitioned Garak to ask for them to grow kut berries, a small, sweet fruit that was primarily used to make a type of kanar. And for not much else according to Garak.

"They have little to no nutritional value and while they grow easily, they only yield little fruit in total." he complained. Unfortunately, in his opinion, the interim government hadn’t been much opposed to the idea. Kanar had become a rare good after the destruction of Cardassia and as a consequence prices had gone through the roof, promising high profits for export. The fact that the majority of the population currently still lived off food rations and off-world donations didn’t seem to figure in the equation, much to Garak’s chagrin. Julian could only agree with his friend over the short-sightedness of that policy, adding that producing alcohol on a planet collectively suffering from PTSD was probably a terrible idea.

They strolled idly through the city on the search for a place to eat, while not straying too far from the administrative centre. Since they were forced to stay in the city until Ghletek made the next tour out to Torr, Julian had requested a bed in the FAAC, while Garak had assigned lodgings in one of the side wings of the current government buildings, which were kept for just that case.

They found a small place, what Cardassians called a ha’amox, near a square that Garak explained had once constituted a commercial centre of the city, being located between the ancient stock exchange, the finance ministry, and one of the oldest space ports on Cardassia. There was little left to see of either building these days, although the ministry was currently under heavy re-construction.

The ha’amox was snuggled into a street corner and like most places of that sort, as Garak explained, it consisted of one room with a single large table in the centre with enough seats for between 20 and 25 people. Currently there were nine people at it, most of whom didn’t seem to know each other. The kitchen offered a total of three different dishes that were written out on a display on the wall. It was more than Julian had expected, considering what he was used to, and he made a mental note to ask Garak about the food distribution in the capital.

Once they were seated, a young man came to bring them a glass of water and a batch of lennet sticks each. He greeted them both with the reverence due to a valued customer and took their orders.

Julian was well aware that it was highly unusual for Cardassians to engage in small talk with complete strangers, as that would have been a breach of protocol, but he was also aware that many Cardassians seemed to feel those rules did not apply to off-worlders. So he wasn’t surprised when a man next to them at the table remarked, a little surprised, at the fact that he wasn’t using an UT.

To not use a translator had been a decision Julian had made early on when he decided to go to Cardassia. Partly because of the situation on the planet, where any form of tech support was all but unavailable and news of unexpected problems were daily occurrences. The last thing he wanted was to risk being stuck somewhere on the planet with no means of communicating. Another reason had actually been a comment Garak had made in one of his messages. Julian had suggested they discuss poetry rather than novels, since they took less time to read and could have been sent between them via their messages. Garak had shot the suggestion down, arguing that poetry lost too much in translation since the language was in fact part of the appeal, and was too much steeped in the cultural context that came with that language. Julian had mentioned that comment in a conversation with a xenolinguist who had passed through DS9 on the way to the Gamma Quadrant. She had wholeheartedly agreed and given him a lengthy lecture on how cultural understanding and thinking were linked to language. It wasn’t something Julian had ever considered before, but it made a lot of sense. And so the idea of learning Kardassi had seemed like a natural thing to do in order to better interact with Cardassians. So far, it had proven true. Untranslated, a lot of things he had often wondered about Cardassians in general and Garak in particular made a lot more sense than they had before.

He had noticed that he was one of a very small group of aid workers who saw things that way though. The Cardassian next to him stated as much when Julian replied that it had seemed the natural thing for him to do. After all there was no need to explain his entire thought process to the man. Another lesson he had learned the hard way as he got older. Instead he merely offered a vague apology on behalf of his fellow Federaji. Most of them had relied on the UT their entire life and didn’t see a reason to stop now. Then again for most of them, Cardassia was just another assignment, whereas Julian had known from the very start that coming here was a lot more than that to him and he had always expected to stay a lot longer than the average aid worker. Another thing he didn’t need to mention here. He voiced his opinion that his colleagues were missing out, since he found Kardassi to be a fascinating language. Especially the concept of geh’renUtis, a sense of happiness over meeting company, was one that he found incredibly endearing. It seemed an idea that was very much at the core of Cardassians for him and it was a shame other Federationers could never fully understand that, because the word simply didn’t properly translate. This remark made Garak, who could simply not sit back and not join a cultural debate, speak up, and the three of them chatted easily for a few minutes.

Julian took the moment to appreciate just how far his Cardassi had come since arriving on the planet. He had of course taken to learning the language the weeks before his arrival. Teaching himself the basics of a language was easy, nothing more than a memory exercise. Within three days he had memorized the general grammatical structures and a nice basic vocabulary of 20 000 words, plus another 5000 words of medical jargon. At that point, he could essentially understand Kardassi, at least simple conversations. Speaking it, of course, was a different matter entirely. Two months of full immersion without a universal translator had taken care of that.

The first month or so, he had felt a bit like a toddler most of the time. He had realised that actually talking in a foreign language, even if you had a basic grasp of it, took much more effort than he initially thought. There was a constant hesitation for fear of making a fool of himself that had to be overcome every time he opened his mouth. Fortunately, Julian had years of experience with feeling awkward and putting his foot in his mouth, and back then he didn’t even have the excuse of not knowing the language.

He also learned that knowing the rules and using them were two very different things, and being ‘not wrong’ was different from being right. He’d had a very interesting conversation with one of the nurses in Umpar, who had told him he often sounded very odd. Julian had been half way through an apology for his accent, which he knew to be pretty bad (humans simply didn’t have all the necessary physiological prerequisites to forming some of those sounds), when she had told him "it’s more the way you express yourself." This had led to her explaining that Julian often ordered sentences in a peculiar way. It wasn’t necessarily wrong or incomprehensible, just odd. Technically, Kardassi was a much more synthetic language than for example Federation Standard and didn’t have a very fixed word order. Practically, however, there were some unwritten rules Julian had been unaware of.

By the time he got to Torr, Julian’s vocabulary had quadrupled, still leaving him at only about half of what the Cardassian language consisted of, and he had stopped placing the object at the end of his sentences. His accent too had improved considerably. He had found some creative ways to trick his tongue and vocal cords into producing at least close approximations to those missing sounds and most of them didn’t even give him a sore throat anymore.

His favorite part, however, were the idioms and slang expressions he had picked up over the last few months. He was fairly sure he knew enough Cardassian curses to turn the air blue by now and he had been beyond thrilled when he had recognised one particular common expression as a quote from _The Never-Ending Sacrifice_ and another that was an allusion to a poem by Ilora of Prim (one he had red on Jadzia’s recommendation, not Garak’s). For the first time it had felt like all those years of trudging through Cardassian classical literature had finally paid off.

Of course he wasn’t going to tell Garak that. It wouldn’t do to encourage him like that and besides it would be much more fun to let the idiom in question slide into conversation at a suitable point and observe his friends reaction.

He still enjoyed being able to have a conversation like this immensely, especially because he was getting to a point where he could contribute to a group discussion and wasn’t entirely steamrolled by the two Cardassians. Cardassians liked to talk and they liked to talk fast when they were among each other. Julian noticed that for the first time since his arrival in Torr Garak wasn’t holding back and so he doubled his efforts to keep up, basking in the look of approval on his friend’s face.

"I have to admit I was a little surprised myself to hear you speak our beautiful language, when you arrived, my dear Doctor," Garak said, after their new acquaintance had eventually left them when he had finished with his own food. "I never knew you had an interest in linguistics."

Julian tilted his head considering if he should take the so clearly offered opportunity to dive into the well-rehearsed discussion of cultural prejudice between their peoples but decided against it. He didn’t feel like being told he was naive and indoctrinated tonight. There were other topics he wanted to talk about right now, so he just said, "Maybe I’m just holding out hope for poetry after all."

For the fraction of a second Garak looked a little surprised, but then he smiled. "In that case my friend, you still have a lot to learn."

Julian grinned. "I intend to," he said. "Which is why I meant to ask you..." and he threw himself back into the conversation.

Over the last weeks, Julian had managed to get a good impression of most people in the district. The team at the clinic had worked out a shift rotation that allowed for Julian to remain on the cooler shift while none of them was permanently stuck on the heat shift. That way they also rotated in working with Julian which he appreciated. This way he interacted with all of them rather than being limited in his work contacts to Lysal, who he suspected didn’t like him very much even if he wasn’t entirely sure why.

It had taken almost a week for him to actually properly talk to the man he shared his room with but once he did, he had made the most delightful discovery: Kalek was, by every conceivable definition, a devoted gossip. Julian could have cried with joy. Not only was he a firm believer in the social greasing properties of gossip, it also gave him a perfect source of information about the people he was now living and working with, and someone who was willing to introduce him into the social structures and relationships surrounding him now. Of course Kalek was still a Cardassian, so his gossiping went through the subdued, backhanded ways of hinting, double entendre and polite insinuation, but Julian had spent enough time with Garak to feel the man was almost embarrassingly direct. Should he ever be in doubt Tomila was only too happy to clarify anything for him, even though she valiantly pretended to have no interest in other people’s business at all.

Within three shifts with Kalek, Julian learned that Lakar the younger was in fact not related to old Essim Lakar, but that Lysal was. His late wive’s second cousin, but apparently the two branches of the family didn’t associate. He had yet to discern exactly why. He had heard about the feud between the teachers who had taken it upon themselves to look after the district’s children, half of whom continued the traditional curriculum and half who favoured a more radical approach. Now Julian knew that Misa Kihorket, the former Replicator programmer and a widow, had been brazenly flirting with Dr Parmak last year but had very suddenly stopped, no one knew exactly why, and that Oktar, the woman who prepared the meals for their block, had had her eye on Garak, which had made Tomila shudder with horror, much to the amusement of the two men.

Together with his conversations with Garak about the difficulties and issues that arose in the district, the chats with patients and his own observations, Julian slowly began to form a picture of the people of the district in his mind. He shared some of those impressions with Garak over dinner to get his take on the situation. At this point, Julian was fairly certain that Kalek was hopelessly in love with Zekim, but couldn’t understand why the nurse had resigned himself to pining from afar. Garak’s explanation, that Zekim had, before the war been a distinguished government employee, socially high above a simple dental technician with a servant class name like Kalek, didn’t satisfy Julian at all and they spend half the meal bickering amicably over the sense and nonsense of firm social hierarchies.

"I really don’t see how you can argue that way, Doctor, you, who has spent half his life living within a fixed hierarchy." Garak huffed.

"There is a difference between a command structure within an organisation and a caste system penetrating all of society," Bashir argued. "By joining Starfleet I willingly consented to working in a hierarchy. If I didn’t like it, I could have kept a private practice somewhere in the Federation and I would have been equal to everyone around me."

"Oh please, Doctor. Even you can’t be that naive anymore. There is always a hierarchy, whether you acknowledge it or not. Officially fixating it only makes it easier to navigate." Garak disagreed.

Julian was just about to launch into a heated counterargument to this frankly ridiculous statement when suddenly something occurred to him. A quick look around confirmed that there were quite a few more other patrons, more or less conspicuously staring at them. Suddenly Julian felt terribly exposed.

He leaned in a little to ask quietly, "should we be arguing like this in public?"

The question seemed to amuse Garak greatly. "And why shouldn’t we, my dear doctor?" he asked with a slight quirk of one eyeridge. "After all, we have been doing so in public for years."

"Yes, but that was on DS9 where everybody knew us and half the people didn’t think anything by it," Julian pointed out. "Also you didn’t have much of a reputation to lose back then. I’d hate to cause you any trouble if your fellow citizens see you flirt like that with an alien."

The amusement drained from Garak’s face and was replaced with the smooth placid mask he often hid behind when he didn’t want to show his thoughts. Julian only then noticed he hadn’t actually seen that mask on his friends face since they had reunited on Cardassia.

"You are aware of Cardassian courting practices, Doctor?" Garak observed evenly.

Julian gave him an exasperated look. "The Federation might not know much about Cardassian social norms but things that can lead to serious misunderstandings are usually noted. Even if we weren’t taught about that specifically at the academy, I would have known after the episode when the Cardassian scientist on the station thought Miles was flirting with her."

Garak’s face froze even more. "You never said."

Julian frowned, trying to ascertain if he imagined the slight accusatory lilt. "Neither did you," he pointed out. "And I did reciprocate, didn’t I."

"Except when you threw yourself at various members of the female population of the station." Garak sounded almost snide now.

"You never made a move!" Julian exclaimed baffled. If he had still harboured any hopes for being discreet in public they were now definitely gone, but right now this seemed much more important.

"You never even hinted at anything more than flirtation, so I figured you were just doing it for the fun of it, or maybe you were just naturally flirtatious. It’s not like I ever claimed to understand what goes on in that head of yours. But nothing ever came of it, so I just assumed you thought it wouldn’t be a good idea, or that you weren’t really interested, so..." he gesticulated vaguely by way of ending the sentence.

"I see." was all he got from Garak.

Julian sat back in his chair, eyes wide as saucers. This could not be real.

"You really thought I didn’t know, did you? Seven years you flirted with me thinking I had no idea. Why?"

The other man didn’t answer. Garak sat stock still, staring blindly at his plate. Finally he returned to the present, looking at Bashir. But he was again wearing the mask and his eyes gave nothing away.

"I’m sorry, doctor, but I would prefer to retire now. It has been quite a taxing day and I still have a lot to think about." he said, perfectly polite.

It wasn’t quite his customer service voice, it lacked the fake enthusiasm, but it clearly placed him at an emotional distance. Julian felt a little sucker punched hearing it. He had had the best intentions in bringing up the topic, but suddenly he had a sinking feeling like he might have just taken a sledgehammer to the very foundation of their relationship. Had pretending not to notice the dance they danced around each other really been an unspoken rule the breaking of which led to the end of the dance? But then Garak hadn’t been pretending, had he? So what did that mean then?

"Of course," was all he could bring himself to say.

Garak insisted on accompanying him back to the Federation building, citing the dangers for an off-worlder walking the streets alone. They walked back to the compound in silence, both of them lost in thought. Julian found himself struggling, not only with the possibility that he had just accidently ruined one of the most important friendships in his life, but also with the implications that Garak had not known. He still didn’t know what it meant, and worse he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted it to mean. He would have to re-evaluate their entire acquaintance by the looks of it.

It was only after they had tentatively said good night at the admin building that it hit Julian that, if Garak was really so taken aback or embarrassed by the whole debacle that he wouldn’t want to continue their association he was still stuck in Torr with him. Or would Garak ask for a replacement? Should he ask for a new posting? Or would they just work side by side purely professional? No way that could ever get awkward, he thought sardonically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kut berries literally translate to blackberries. Their my ‘invention’.  
> I imagine kanar as less of a specific drink rather than an umbrella term for a certain type of liquor that can be made from different kinds of fruit but always has similar qualities like sweetness, alcohol content or viscosity.  
> Ha’amox is in the EKD. It’s defined as ‘restaurant’. I redefine it as this particular type of eatery.  
> Lennet is a ‘vegetable with a long stalk’ and apparently a popular snack.  
> geh’renUtis is a wonderful concept, defined as ‘happy to meet company’ by the EKD. Basically Cardassians in a nutshell.  
>   
> I feel like I need to explain the concept of a synthetic language, since the word has, in my mind, the slight connotation of something artificial. That is not the case here. A synthetic language (e.g, Finnish or Turkish) is a language that is ‘put together’. It uses addition of morphemes to a root word to assign grammatical properties and the combination of two or more morphemes into one word. e.g the suffix -ed in English signifies past tense. A more synthetic language than English can express tense, case, quantity, mode, location, direction and many other things through such additions.  
> The opposite of a synthetic language is an analytic language (e.g Chinese or English (to a lesser degree)). Here grammatical properties are conveyed through auxiliary words, prepositions and the words position in the sentence. e.g in English fixed SVO word order in main clauses. The position of the word in the sentence indicates its relation to the others.  
> Most languages are a mixture of both, so you can really only ever talk about more or less analytical/synthetic languages.


	11. Chapter 11

Garak had spent ta’ laying on his stomach, turning every conversation he had ever had with his dear doctor over and over in his head. He had known. All this time he had known. The realisation still had enough impact to make him slightly dizzy. At dinner it had nearly floored him.

Under the light of this latest revelation, it was undeniable that Bashir had expressed his interest early on in their association, if Garak had known to see it. How had he not seen it? Yet again he had overlooked important information when it came to Bashir and couldn’t help berating himself for it. In his defence, he found that the doctor had apparently decided early on not to wait long for Garak to make a move. Patience had never been his strong suit, that much was clear. But neither had he stopped arguing with him, so how was Garak supposed to know that the doctor had been aware of the meaning of their arguments?

There was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that kept pointing out what could have happened, if only he had known. He squashed that voice down ruthlessly. It would never have worked, not once they had become friends. The doctor had become too dear to him to be anything more while the threat of Tain and the Order had looming. And after, there had been a war. Neither of them had been in the best of places after their ordeal in the prison camp, and being stuck on the defiant for months on end surrounded by death and destruction, and then the deaths of Ziyal and Commander Dax. Anything started under those conditions would have been doomed to fail as the case of the doctor and Ezri Dax had shown. No, it was just as well he hadn’t known then. This way, he had been able to enjoy the doctor’s company without the burden of hopes and expectations.

But now... Now he knew. Tain was dead, the Order was gone, the war was over, and they were united again, on Cardassia this time. And the doctor knew.

Garak huffed into his pillow. Now he knew too, and now he needed to decide what to do with this newfound knowledge.

It was, of course, true. He had flirted with the dear doctor from the very beginning and yes, Bashir had responded in kind. At least that was what Garak would have assumed, had the doctor been a Cardassian. But as he was not, Garak had simply, stupidly, assumed Bashir had merely argued with him out of the wish to exchange their points of view on the various topics they discussed over the years. Garak had had enough chances to observe Bashir flirting with intent on the station, not just with other humans, but his style had never much changed. When the doctor flirted, he was soft, all smiles and smouldering glances, his voice kept low. With Garak, he had been harsher, more contrary and confrontational. Perfectly enticing from a Cardassian perspective, but not what Garak had learned to recognise as flirtatious from his friend.

Of course Garak himself could have tried human ways of flirting. In fact, he had done so at the very beginning of their association, but he had quickly realised that the doctor was much more interesting than he had initially thought. He had lost interest in a quick seduction in favour of having found someone who genuinely seemed to enjoy spending time with an exiled Cardassian tailor, even if Bashir suspected him to be a spy.

He had enjoyed their flirtatious arguments, so he had kept them up even after he had decided not to actively pursue Bashir. And the doctor had been right there too, over time it had simply become the way they interacted with each other. At some point, Garak had realised that quite accidently the doctor had become his closest friend and someone he had come to trust, in spite of all his training and experience. At that point their relationship had become too valuable, too precious to risk it for anything more sentimental or physical. Especially since he had been convinced that the doctor had no idea that this change had been an option and no inclination towards it anyway.

Garak would have to revise at least those two assumptions now.

From what Bashir said during their dinner, not only had he known, but he had in fact waited for Garak to ‘make a move’ at least for a while. Garak couldn’t help wondering if he would still be open to it, should Garak decide to rectify that oversight.

But had their situation really changed? Garak was honest enough, with himself at least, to acknowledge that his feelings for the doctor went far beyond friendship and had for years. But he still treasured Bashir’s friendship above everything else in his life, save his beloved Cardassia, whatever was left of her. Was it worth taking even the slightest risk with that? Neither of them had the best track record with relationships even under relatively ideal conditions. Their current situation was anything but ideal. Not only were they both products of their respective worlds, they were also both fiercely loyal to them. Bashir might be on Cardassia for the moment, but he was a Starfleet officer with all his heart and would never willingly give that up. And Garak finally, finally home and serving his world once more, would be the last person to ask him.

There were too many questions at the moment and Garak eventually fell into a fitful sleep unable to answer any of them.

The next day was full of tedious and necessary work. Even in the Obsidian Order, Garak had never been obliged to fill out that much paperwork. Interspersed with that were meetings with ministers and aids, most of them too short to get anywhere and with not enough time beforehand for either side to properly prepare. He none the less kept the appointments and argued his cases as convincingly and concisely as he could.

The fact that there was no official government, other than the counsel, didn’t mean there were no politics happening on Cardassia. Over the last year Garak had kept his ear to the ground and taken keen notice of all the little shifts and changes. Alliances were forged, networks were formed, favours were being granted and owed. By the time the remainders of the Union would be ready to form a cohesive government, parties would be springing up like mushrooms after rain and half the privileges and positions would already have been divided out. He kept an eye on it and maintained enough contacts and connections so he might be considered an asset when the time came, but it demanded a lot of time and work, especially when he could only come to the capital every few weeks. It was therefore vital for him to keep all his appointments and possibly squeeze a few more in.

As a result, he barely got out for a ten-minute lunch break which he used to leave a message at the Federation compound for Bashir, asking him to meet for dinner. But even in his busiest moments his thoughts would occasionally return to the doctor and urge him to make a decision.

When he finally finished for the day the second sun was already high in the sky and prime sunrise was only a few minutes away. It was later than he would have liked, but he felt he had made at least some progress both in his lobbying endeavours and in making up his mind about the doctor.

He reached the Federation compound just when the first beams of sunlight peaked over the horizon and asked for Doctor Bashir. The Tellarite at the entrance gave him an appraising look.

"Pur nim Garak?" he asked sceptically. Garak confirmed his identity."Dr Bashir asked to tell you he’s waiting on the roof."

Garak had often wondered how humans could properly appreciate a good sunrise, being as they were unable to detect both infrared and ultraviolet light. But when he reached the roof, Bashir wasn’t even looking at the rising sun. He was looking southward. Towards Torr, Garak realised. It was the least appealing direction, in his opinion. The south of the city had taken the brunt of the bombing and even from the relatively low roof of the federation offices one could see the seemingly endless plain lying in ruins.

"The view used to be better." he commented gently, not trying to startle the human. Bashir didn’t. He didn’t turn either, eyes firmly fixed on the sight.

"I‘ve just been thinking of an old earth poem," he said. "You might remember the poet, Oscar Wilde."

Garak searched his memory for the name. "He of the dreadful farce about people being obsessed with talking utter nonsense?" he inquired lightly.

Julian laughed. "The same. You liked the bit about truth being rarely pure and never simple though."

"One intelligent sentence is hardly enough to make up for an entire play of senseless prattle," Garak refuted. "I do hope his poems have a little more substance if this sight makes you think of them."

"Oh, his poems are very different from his plays. He didn’t write many and they’re not very well known, except for one, but I wasn’t thinking of that one," Julian explained, "the one I mean is about nostalgia I think, melancholy for something that’s lost. It’s very beautiful and sad."

That seemed more fitting, but Garak was still sceptical. His experience with Earth poetry was limited, but he had never seen any reason to regret that fact.

"’Could we dig up this long buried treasure

Were it worth the pleasure?’" Julian quoted quietly.

"’We never could learn love’s song

We are parted too long.

Can the passionate past that is fled

Call back its dead?

Could we live it all over again

Were it worth the pain?’"

Garak almost smiled at the human’s customary directness. Ironically, he was very well aware that to a human Bashir would have been extremely tentative. For a Cardassian he was almost painfully obvious. That fact only endeared him more to Garak, because it was so very like Bashir. That the human had apparently been struggling with the same questions he had was another small consolation.

The doctor finally turned to face him. He looked wary, maybe a little insecure. He had gotten better had hiding his emotions, the breathing masks helped, but his eyes were just as eloquent as they had ever been. It was all it took for Garak to definitively decide on a path.

"I didn’t ruin everything yesterday, did I?" Bashir asked pleadingly. "I was a little worried you never wanted to talk to me again."

Garak almost laughed. As if that had ever been an option. It was so typical for Bashir he realised. He knew, but he didn’t _know_.

"Of course not, my dear." he said warmly. "It was very thoughtful of you to be concerned with my reputation. And as for what you told me, while I admit a degree of surprise, I have only myself to blame: I should know better than to underestimate you by now, my dear. I apologise if I gave you the impression that I was in any way cross with you."

To his endless relief the doctor seemed to believe him and smiled back, apparently just as relieved. "And now?" he asked.

"Now I would be honoured if you would join me for dinner, Doctor. I admit I haven’t eaten much today yet." Garak said pleasantly.

He let a bit of mischief show in his eyes, "And I would ask you not to waste a thought on my reputation. At least not while we’re here in the capital."

Bashir’s eyes crinkled with his wide grin. "It would be my pleasure."

Garak felt like he had never enjoyed their arguments more than he did that evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> „The truth is rarely pure and never simple.“ is from The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.   
> The poem Julian cites is Roses and Rue, also by Wilde. That man is underrated as a poet.


	12. Chapter 12

There was a new ease between them on their last day in the capital together. New and yet not entirely new, but for the first time it felt like there was an understanding between them, even though Garak wasn’t entirely sure what about. Again he was ridiculously busy most of the time, but he managed to meet Bashir for lunch as well as dinner. The Doctor reported he had gotten another message from Dax and Jake Sisko, who seemed to contemplate visiting Cardassia as a volunteer, a plan that apparently received support from Kira of all people. Garak wasn’t entirely sure what he felt he would get out of it but he wasn’t about to tell anyone nay who offered to help rebuilding Cardassia.

They talked some more about Bashir’s relation with the people of Torr and Garak’s efforts to convince the ministers to let them grow nutritious root vegetables like bet’to and grain rather than kut berries and lennet which were both popular but neither very nutritious nor high yield, which was what was needed right now, and his negotiations about fertilisers and a connection to the power grid.

Bashir in turn complained about the endless walks he had to take, when doing his rounds through the district. Torr was not the largest district, but it consisted of more than the main area where the clinic was. Some houses further out had been spared the bombing and where now being lived in and there were two larger estates where groups of buildings like small villages had escaped destruction. They weren’t as far away as the capital but still a good hour walk to and from the clinic. It was one of the reasons why it was necessary for the district s'h'iosr'ha to make these rounds all over the district, so people received care who couldn’t make it to the clinic, Garak pointed out. Bashir replied dryly that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about his personal fitness while he stayed in Torr.

Throughout all of it they bickered and bantered to their hearts content, which in the doctor’s case was apparently bordering on impudent. It felt like he had suddenly been given explicit permission to flirt with Garak like a newlywed and while that was to a degree true, Garak had never expected him to make such use of this permission. A part of him couldn’t help revel in it, while another wondered if Bashir knew exactly what he was doing. He knew he was flirting, yes, but whether he was as knowledgeable about the extend and to what effect, Garak had his doubts. He was also a little wary of what end the Doctor had in mind with his behaviour.

There was the part of him that was still habitually careful, that reminded him relentlessly how much of a weakness sentiment was. The conviction that the Doctor didn’t return his affections had only been one of the reasons Garak had never in all those years ‘made a move’ as Bashir had put it. He had kept the Doctor at arms length most of the time to avoid giving the impression that hurting him would hurt Garak and that Bashir would make a good target because of it.

True, the war had taken care of most of his old enemies, but part of him couldn’t help thinking how easy it would be to disappear in the ruins of Cardassia, to let Garak feel safe and strike when he had grown complacent.

Even ignoring such concerns, which he wasn’t, he wasn’t entirely sure what he himself wanted out of this new development. He had spent years convincing himself that anything more than friendship with Bashir was neither possible nor wise. Suddenly the first objection was severely weakened and the second at least negotiable. The mere fact that Bashir had come to Cardassia and Garak had exerted his meagre influence to bring him to Torr would tell any enemy a former Obsidian Order operative still might have enough to know that hurting the doctor would hurt Garak, no matter the exact extent of their relationship. There were other considerations of course, but neither Garak’s social standing nor Bashir’s career were comparable to the doctor’s life.

A part of Garak’s hesitance was due to his worry for his own heart however. Applying the doctrine that you can’t lose what you don’t risk, he had for a long time convinced himself that he could accept being nothing more than close friends with the doctor. True, he had longed for more ever since he had realised the full extent of both Bashir’s quick intellect and sheer endless compassion and care. As long as he never pushed for more though, the vague possibility of ‘could’ seemed more bearable than the devastating certainty of having tried and failed. He could live enjoying flirting with the doctor and telling himself that if he chose to he could make the Bashir his. He wasn’t so sure he could live with his broken heart if the human turned him down.

So for the moment he allowed himself to enjoy arguing with Bashir, seeing him delight in their conversation. The knowledge that the Doctor knew they were flirting added an extra thrill to the whole thing but for now Garak decided not to let himself contemplate anything more.

At some point during dinner Bashir slyly asked about Oktar. At first Garak was a little surprised by the insinuation. Not that the lady in question hadn’t also argued rather viciously with him, it had in fact taken rather emphasised politeness to dissuade her, but he wondered how Bashir knew about it. Of course it didn’t take him long to remember that the doctor worked with one of the worst gossips in the district, apart from Oktar herself maybe.

"I never thought you were one to give much on rumours, Doctor," he replied smoothly. "It’s rather unbecoming for a person in such an eminent position as yours."

"Well, if Cardassians weren’t so damned roundabout about everything and nothing, and didn’t regard a straight forward question as terribly gauche, I wouldn’t have to rely on rumours to find out anything that’s going on. Besides Cardassians love talking about things of no importance, so you can’t tell me they never gossip."

"A straight forward question _is_ terribly gauche, my dear. It only speaks of bad manners and shows you lack the skill to gain your information by more elegant means. It took me years to learn how to politely avoid answering one of your direct questions without seeming terribly rude."

"You have never answered a question I asked you and you’re only ever rude if you mean to be." Bashir objected.

"What kind of a conversationalist would I be, if I weren’t?" Garak replied undeterred. "As for the second part of you’re accusation: Of course Cardassians gossip, our friend Kalek being a case in point, but you are a person in a position of esteem and respect, you can’t be seen to stoop so low as that."

Bashir huffed. "You’re only trying to avoid the question."

"I wasn’t aware you had asked one." Garak replied with his most innocent grin. Bashir rolled his eyes. "I haven’t. I was trying not to be terribly gauche. But if I do, I do it because I actually want an answer, not just to present you with a conversational challenge, so you’re not going to throw me off that easily: we were talking about Oktar and her apparent interest in you, which I assume you have noticed, considering she is Cardassian and not human."

Garak had to suppress a proud smile. The Doctor really had learned a lot about Cardassian communications beside the actual language. An indirect question posed through insinuation and a few flirtatious barbs added for good measure, it was almost perfectly Cardassian. Of course he was still a little blunt in the execution and could actually be construed as slightly rude, but he certainly had come a long way from the naive and painfully overt young man he had been when they had met. Such an attempt almost deserved an honest answer. Almost.

"As pur nim, it is of course my duty to be aware of how well people in the district get on with each other and, as you well know, I do have regular contact with Oktar, since she is in charge of the food distribution. It is only natural to exchange a few friendly words here and there." he said amicably.

"Not exactly friendly, from what I hear." Bashir muttered. At least in some ways the dear doctor had not changed at all. Even if his conversational skills had improved, his face was still incapable of hiding his emotions. And this particular one Garak had seen there before. In hindsight the Doctor’s obvious jealousy of Ziyal should have given him a hint, Garak thought now, before pushing the thought away. Last years rain, as the saying went. But to see it back now, gave him a strange fluttery feeling in his chest.

"You mustn’t take everything you hear entirely serious, Doctor." he offered.

Bashir’s face lit up, worsening the fluttering sensation to a point where Garak wondered if he might be having a heart attack. "No?"

"No, Doctor. I assure you I have never been anything but perfectly polite to Oktar."

The human’s smile was wide now. "She seems like a good woman though." he hinted, testing the waters further.

"Oh, most certainly," Garak replied with a smirk of his own, "A pillar of our little community. Which is precisely why I wouldn’t want to be disagreeing with her."

"No mixing of business and pleasure?" Bashir asked.

"Something of the sort."

"And yet here you are arguing with me." the doctor pointed out with a mischievous grin.

"You, my dear Doctor, are a federation volunteer; you are technically not subjected to the district pur nim. You also, technically, have your own rations at your disposal and are therefore not dependant on me for your survival."

Bashir frowned. "So in that inescapable hierarchy of Cardassian thinking that would make you and me equals, while Oktar is your subordinate." he surmised.

Garak shook his head. "You are right as far as Oktar and I are concerned," he conceded. "You and I however are a bit more complicated. We are not equals because you are not part of the hierarchy."

"Because I’m an alien." Bashir concluded. "Does that mean I’m an _untouchable_ in this scenario?" His frown deepened as he used the Standard term.

"I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that expression Doctor. Provided there is more than the literal meaning to it."

Bashir nodded. "Throughout earth‘s history there were certain groups, that were considered _untouchable_. They were usually of the lowest social class, the poorest of the poorest. They were cut off from the rest of society, forbidden to interact with the people outside of their caste and lived outside of the normal social system."

Garak tilted his head slightly. He noticed that Bashir’s hands had tensed around his food bowl while he talked and his voice had taken on a particular tone, something it did, when he was personally invested in a topic. He suspected that Bashir felt many of his fellow augments were treated that way even now, so he decided it might not be the right time to tease the Doctor about the barbaric practices of his ancestors, but stored the knowledge, as well as his observations about Bashir away for later use.

"That would have been similar to the situation of any off-worlder who chose to live on Cardassia before the war," he admitted. "Now things are no longer so simple. We are, after all, dependent on your help, which raises your status quite a bit. Nowadays I think one could just say that our systems do not apply to you. Forcing you into our hierarchy, or at the bottom of it as it where, would be extremely rude and ungrateful, and we currently can’t afford to be rude to the people who help us to survive."

"But I’m still not part of your society?" Bashir probed further.

"You can’t expect these things to change within a couple of months, Doctor. If you and your fellow volunteers remain here for a few years as I have been assured you intend to, I feel certain you will carve yourself a space in our society."

The Doctor seemed to accept that even though he was clearly still mulling it over.

"That would make everyone in your district your subordinate thought." he said after a moment.

"Indeed."

"Which means a relationship with anyone would be inappropriate."

"Correct."

Bashir looked at him with wide eyes. "That sounds horribly unfair."

"It’s what we would call a sacrifice, Doctor." Garak replied dryly. "You might have heard of the concept."

Now the human rolled his eyes, but didn’t look quite as dejected anymore. "Yes, yes," he said, "Renunciation of personal happiness for the greater good of Cardassia, I may have come across the idea once or twice."

"Then you know this is not a great one either." Garak added. "I take great happiness from serving the greater good of Cardassia. Everything else is secondary."

Bashir held his eyes for a long moment as if he was trying to ascertain the truth of this statement. "I know." he said finally and looked down into his bowl. It had been empty for near ten minutes at this point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet’to is described in the EKD as ‘purple root vegetable’.


	13. Chapter 13

At the return to Torr and his duties in the clinic Julian noticed that the number of patients had nearly been double the normal quota during his absence. Despite their world falling to pieces Cardassians were still keen record keepers and they very diligently maintained their patient records. They didn’t have data PADDs at the moment, but they did have the Cardassian equivalent of pen and paper, both of which were miraculously part of the medical supply loads they got from then capital. Julian could only shake his head over the interim government’s priorities.

From those records, however, Julian could tell that a lot of people had visited the clinic over the last three days. None of them had had any severe acute injuries so there likely hadn’t been a mass incident. Just a lot of people randomly deciding now would be a good time to get treatment for smaller ailments or the kind they hadn’t felt necessary to have treated until now. Many Cardassians still adhered to the strict cast system, therefore thinking themselves unworthy of having supplies spend on them. Either that or they saw it as their sacrifice for the greater good of Cardassia. Julian could never be quite sure which, or if the two weren’t essentially the same. The point was, many of them would not come in unless they were dying or in unbearable agony. Apparently a lot had reached that point while Julian had been away.

Lysal only shrugged when he asked her about it. If you can’t work it out yourself human, I certainly won’t waste my breath explaining it to you, her look stated clearly. He was still not sure if she was generally xenophobic or if he had just made a terrible first impression on her, loosing a patient on his first day. Again the two might stem from the same root.

Tomila answered him, when he asked her, but her answer was evasive. He couldn’t tell if she was being polite and trying to spare him or simply Cardassian, not inclined to answer any question that didn’t directly boil down to irrefutable facts. But he got the message none the less.

"They waited until the human was away, so they had a reason to be treated by a Cardassian doctor." he concluded and the expression on Tomila’s face told him he had hit the nail on the head.

"It’s a way to save face." Eltek explained to him over lunch. He didn’t seem surprised but kept his face carefully guarded so Julian couldn’t fully discern his feelings about the issue. Eltek was even better at keeping his face placid than Garak was. An indispensable ability for a servant, he had told Julian with a mischievous grin.

Julian frowned. "Why would refusing my treating them cause them to lose face?" he asked. "I’m assuming my standing is not a consideration."

"To a part it is, though admittedly not a major one. But the government deigned to send you to help us. Refusing that help would be regarded ungrateful at best, seditious at worst. And as someone send by the government you mustn’t be publically insulted either."

Julian’s eyebrows shot up. "Not that I don’t appreciate the government’s effort to combat xenophobia, but seditious?"

"Well, we’ll see how things are under the new order, but generally speaking yes, any public defiance of government policy is by nature seditious," the older man explained as if it was obvious, "independent of what that policy entails. And I doubt combating xenophobia is a main concern. It’s more of a side effect. If it even takes." he added sceptically.

"So that is why all the aid programs have to be approved and signed by the interim government," Julian realised, "so people accept them, even if they involve aliens."

"That is certainly one reason." Garak said as he joined them. He had been talking with several other people around the yard. Julian got the feeling that he thought his friend didn’t need as much supervision and accompanying anymore, now that he had made friends with Eltek, Tomila and Kalek and knew some of the others that came here for lunch, so Garak didn’t need to be by his side all the time anymore. That didn’t mean he didn’t at least exchange a few words with him over every meal, although it left Julian to wonder how they’d go about their newfound understanding. Garak had explicitly mentioned he shouldn’t worry about flirting while they were in the capital, which in inference meant it was a concern here in Torr. It was especially concerning, because, in spite of how much they had flirted on their trip, Julian still didn’t really know where they were headed, if they were headed anywhere at all.

Garak seemed to read the question on his forehead, or maybe he had spent sometime thinking about it, too. Maybe he was also afraid Julian might not have gotten the message and would start arguing immediately. At any case he forestalled any of it by bringing the topic up himself. Very veiled of course, since they were very much in public.

"Concerning what we talked about on our first evening in the capital, Doctor," he said, "while I believe we covered a few very important points, I suggest we both take a bit of time to consider all implications before we proceed."

Julian nodded slowly. He was a little surprised that Garak considered it a matter they should both think about. He had thought he had made it clear he did understand the implications, but maybe that was not what Garak had meant. Would publically flirting with the district pur nim damage his reputation even more? And did he care? Or was it possible that Garak still thought he wasn’t interested? He hardly thought that was possible, but he hadn’t thought it had been possible before either. Or maybe Garak wasn’t interested after all; maybe he truly just enjoyed the occasional flirt and tried to keep Julian from getting his hopes up. He suppressed a sigh and decided to leave it to Garak again. After all he had made it more than clear this time that he was waiting for him to make a move.

"Let me know when you’ve come to a decision." he told Garak, just in case, who nodded tersely.

Eltek looked curiously between the two but refrained from asking. Over the last weeks he had started to treat Julian more as if he were a Cardassian, which pleased the doctor immensely.

"I‘ve just told Eltek about the unprecedented influx of patients the clinic has dealt with over the past couple of days." Julian told Garak, hoping he would understand and that it would lay some of his concerns to rest. Julian was already the weird alien only a few trusted. His reputation could hardly get much worse. It seemed at least the first was true. Garak looked just as little surprised as Eltek had.

"Well, that was to be expected, my dear Doctor," he said. "I’m afraid I warned you something like this might happen. I suppose we can count ourselves lucky if this is the whole extend of how people show their unease."

Julian knew he was right, and he had braced himself for hostility much worse than that. It still irked him, he couldn’t help it. He had somewhat overcome his desperate desire to be liked, especially after his enhancements had been revealed and he had to accept the reality that some people would always judge him for that, no matter what he did or didn’t do. Being on Cardassia is similar in that regard. But even though he had come to terms with that and the war had rearranged his priorities dramatically, he still liked being liked, more than he would probably admit to and being unthinkingly rejected still affected him more than it maybe should have. He was ready to admit by now that it had been one factor that had driven him into the bout of depression he had suffered through while on the Defiant those first months of the war, probably even earlier than that. At the time he hadn’t realised, but it was clear in hindsight and he had promised Ezri to keep an eye on that while he was on Cardassia.

"How am I going to convince them of my charms if they don’t even give me the chance to talk to them?" he asked with a sigh.

Neither of the two Cardassians seemed to have an answer to that. Garak could only offer an "I have full confidence in you in that regard, Doctor," which sounded a little hollow to his ears.

The frustrating thing about all this was that most reactions Julian had gotten over the last month in Torr were not even malicious. They were xenophobic in a way that most Cardassian citizens had been indoctrinated their entire life to believe in Cardassian superiority. Accordingly they assumed, not exactly the worst of him, but simply that he was inferior in every way. That he had come to Cardassia freely, with the intention to help made him even more curious but somewhat charmingly so. Most treated him with pleased surprise whenever Julian did something right and with the sort of kind resignation you would reserve for the village idiot whenever he didn’t, though now he wondered if even that was down to politeness owned to a government appointed person. There were occasionally some who treated him with blatant disdain, Lysal only one of them, but the majority seemed to regard him as a curiosity, a kind of noble savage or maybe a cute animal that had learned some impressive tricks. Sometimes even Eltek and Kalek wore that kind of patronising smile he remembered all to well from his early days on DS9, coming mostly from Jadzia, but from Garak and Miles, too, if he had been lucky enough to get a smile from Miles rather than a frown. It was the same smile he had given to Molly when she had shown him one of her drawings. No wonder they didn’t trust Julian as a doctor. But at least Garak hadn’t looked at him like that for a long time.

When he returned to work Julian decided to not let himself be bothered, not by people’s bigotry and not by how uncomfortably undefined things were between him and Garak. He couldn’t do much about the first, other than be the best doctor he could be, and neither about the latter unless he tied Garak to a rock and forced some answers out of him. And even then he wasn’t sure he would get any. Right now all he could do was keep going as he had. If nothing else he and Garak were clearly still friends, which was maybe not as much as he had been wishing for, for years at this point, but he had been content with it so far and if that was all that was on offer he would be happy with that. He still found the idea that Garak, the master interrogator, had never noticed Julian’s interest in him, not even back when he had practically followed him like a lost puppy, incredibly amusing. Now that he was no longer worried about having ruined anything between them, he could fully appreciate the hilarity of his friend’s face when he had realised. Of course, when Garak had returned to outrageously flirting with him the other two evenings they had spend together, he had hoped they might finally take the leap, but he had accepted years ago that he and Garak might never happen and made his peace with it. It didn’t entirely quell the sting of disappointment he felt at the thought though.

He resolutely pushed those musings aside and concentrated on Tomila, who also just came back from lunch. He could absolutely see why Garak had sent the girl to him. She was bright and curious and had exceptional bedside manner. He had no doubt that, should he decide to tutor her, he would not regret it for a moment. At least not because of her. Starfleet might make him regret it, but Tomila would certainly exceed expectations. He felt a slight twinge of guilt for even hesitating to give her that chance. Back in the Federation he had never even thought about education like this. In the Federation education was free and available to everyone, and everyone was encouraged to get it. If you were interested in a career in medicine (and not genetically engineered) you could simply apply to a medical school; if you wanted to be a journalist you went to a university. Jake might have gotten a ‘scholarship’, but it was a token offer at best, an antiquated leftover from the times when education had to be paid for. If going to that school was what he wanted, he could, scholarship or not.

Here on the other hand it wasn’t necessarily money that was the issue. According to Garak and every other Cardassian he had spoken to, everyone was expected to serve the state in whatever capacity they could do so best, but the reality was that one’s professional chances were, or had been, primarily dictated by social circumstances and connections. An orphan like Tomila was already at a disadvantage by no fault of her own. The only way she could fulfil her potential was through the support of someone who took her under their wing. And she was just the kind of person who should go to med school and become a doctor, of that much Julian was certain.

In his own time at the academy he had met too many who studied medicine because, even in their enlightened times, the profession was to a degree prestigious. It came after all with a title and with a certain standing and regard. Those people where usually the ones who turned out terrible doctors with no interest in either patients or research, and no real affinity for the job. Those people ended with esteemed private practices, being exceptionally boring guests at dinner parties. Tomila on the other hand was truly enjoying her time in the clinic. She delighted in helping people, asked a million questions about the body, the injuries and diseases they treated, and had the kind of inquiring and open mind that thirsted for knowledge and to see beyond the restraints of her life. The kind of mind that was made for studying.

As it was she was a great help in the clinic. She exchanged bandages and had recently learned to set broken bones and set up an IV. Apart from that, she did the more menial tasks around the clinic, cleaning tools, keeping the cabinets in order and making sure there were saniwipes, gloves and disinfectant in every room, easily within reach. Lysal, who had initially been slightly cool towards her, had taken to her and showed her tips and tricks now and then.

Still, Julian shied away from the responsibility and the long term commitment. Not only would he bind himself to stay within her reach for the next decade at least, if not for the rest of his life, but he could only imagine what Starfleet would have to say when he told them that he had attached himself to a Cardassian civilian in that way. While the none-interference-policy didn’t apply to Cardassia on a personal interaction level, command was still not fond of their people getting involved on a deeper level with the natives. Get down, fix what you can and leave, was the unofficial policy in dealing with Cardassia. One that the Cardassian government wholeheartedly supported. It was one of the few points where the two organisations were of one mind. Julian tended to think it was a short-sighted policy, because he was convinced, and his experience in Torr proved him right, that the only way to get the Cardassians to overcome their deeply ingrained xenophobia was to build as many personal connections and friendships as possible and to show the Cardassians that aliens were not what they thought of them.

It wasn’t the first thing he disagreed with Starfleet on over in the last year (technically in a lot longer, but he tried not to think about that) and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. The war had brought out the worst in Starfleet like it had in so many of its soldiers and like a soldier, after the war Starfleet, and by extension the Federation, was suffering from some degree of post trauma reaction, bringing out other ugly traits. Julian couldn’t blame them, but he didn’t like it either. He was, however, not willing to risk his precious commission over a disagreement in direction. Not after he had barely hung on to it and especially not now. He was under no illusion that the impending war had played a role in how easily the J.A.G. had agreed to the deal Sisko and his father had suggested. Now the war was over and while it had been raging Julian had managed to make a powerful enemy within the Federation. The likelihood was high that now that he was no longer so ardently needed, any misstep on his part could be used to send him packing.

"You mustn’t take it personally, s’h’iorsr’ha," Tomila interrupted his musing. "The people have been fed lies all their lives. They know nothing else." she said, clearly assuming he was still occupied with the reaction of the villagers to him.

"And you are convinced that they are lies?" he asked, a little surprised by her forwardness.

"We would not have lost the war if they were true," she replied with certainty, "I would not be an orphan if they were true. I would be nothing if they were true, even though I was the daughter of a gul not two years ago. Is’ha would be dead if they were true." she insisted.

Julian shook his head. Is’ha was a friend of Tomila’s, another orphan Julian had treated last week after she had lost consciousness during schooling. It had only been the result of a mild heat stroke and easily treated, but Tomila was convinced her friend had been with one foot in the grave. She clearly had a lot to learn medically speaking, although her fear was not entirely unfounded considering the medical situation was dire enough for people to die of all sorts of common ailments.

"You are not like I was told aliens were like," she told him, "you’re not weak, uncivilised and without loyalty. And Cardassia wasn’t undefeatable and our government didn’t do what was best for Cardassia when it allied with the Dominion. If those things were lies, then why should anything else be true?"

Julian nodded. He could understand her need to doubt. He hadn’t known if she had been an orphan before the war, but learning that she had lost her family so recently made him realise how much stronger and braver she was than he had assumed. She was a girl who had grown up with certain expectations about the future that had now been shattered, a position in Cardassia’s oh-so- precious society she had lost now, not to speak of the loss of the people she had likely loved. In that situation it was no surprise that her faith in Cardassia had equally been shattered and that she found proof for that and solace in Julian. If an alien could be smart and capable, then maybe an orphan could be someone and be considered valuable.

A part of him hoped that more Cardassians shared Tomila’s view and that they would be enough to build a more open society out of the ruins. For now he could only do what he could to assure the girl and help her build her confidence in this new way of looking at the world.

"Then we should show the others how right you are," he said resolved, "I proof to them that an alien can be a good s’h’iorsr’ha and you that an orphan can be as smart and valuable to society as any other person. Now in order to do that, we’ll need to teach you how to recognise and treat the symptoms of a heat stroke, alright?"

Her wide grin was all the answer he needed.

Garak, too, smiled when Julian told him about that conversation over dinner. "She’ll be even more able to do that, if she is given the opportunity to become a doctor herself." he pointed out.

Julian groaned. "I know and if there was anyone else available to be her te’aladik, I’d be cheering her on."

"But like this...?" Garak probed.

"Like this I’m just not sure I should be given this kind of responsibility. I’m not exactly known for my ability to stick with long term commitments." He sighed. He wished he was a more steady person in moments like this. Someone who could be relied upon to be there in ten years time, but he knew himself well enough to know that he was more flighty than that. He had relationships with people he knew wouldn’t stick around, or anticipated not sticking around himself; he preferred target oriented research to long term studies, plot driven holoprograms to environmental ones and adventure novels to repetitive epics.

The longest commitments he had ever made in his life had been to medicine and Starfleet, and currently he was at least vaguely uncertain about the latter. He usually tried to ignore it, but there was a nagging doubt that had built almost unnoticed by himself over the last year or so, the more often he found himself grinding his teeth over the latest decision from command. He realised that, like Tomila, he had had near blind faith in the system he had grown up in, something Garak had criticized ever since they had started discussing literature together. At the time he had been insulted by Garak’s accusations of his ‘federation prejudice’, especially since the Cardassian himself was hardly susceptible to other viewpoints than his own, but by now he recognised that he had been naive and yes, prejudiced, to think the Federation ideals were superior to all others, not at all unlike his Cardassian friend. And not unlike Tomila, the war had taken that faith and crushed it. The existence of Section 31 alone had been enough to shock him to the core, but to be faced not only with how far they were willing to go, but also that high ranking Starfleet officers were accepting their methods had shattered his believe in the complete righteousness of the organisation.

So the seed had already been planted, and when the war had ended it had continued to grow. Julian didn’t necessarily feel the same thirst for adventure that had driven him to Starfleet initially anymore; the war had taken care of that, too. Yet at the same time he had begun to get bored on DS9. The station had started to turn into exactly the kind of practice he could have had on earth, where he treated scratches, holosuit injuries, the annual flu wave and the occasional space ship accident.

Bajor was no longer a frontier, nor a planet recovering from a brutal occupation. In fact it had made it through the war surprisingly unscathed and was now likely at the beginning of a veritable golden age. He felt a little guilty about feeling this way, because after everything Bajor had gone through in the last half century, they deserved whatever progress they had made and whatever peace they could get. Feeling vaguely disappointed by that progress and peace was more than selfish, and he had been very careful not to mention it to anyone. But he had realised he wasn’t really made for peace and the golden age, it only made him antsy. Deep Space Nine was a fairly busy spaceport, low wormhole activity not withstanding (both quadrants were too busy reordering themselves to do much exploration at this point) and, probably for the first time in its existence, it was undeniably safe. Julian had occasionally gone months without treating anyone for anything more serious than alcohol poisoning. Add to that the lack of stimulating company and you had a very bored Julian Bashir. One who very much suspected Starfleet would think twice or four times before assigning him anywhere else. A suspicion Kira had fuelled that night she had told him seething over a rather large bottle of spring wine that she had put five officers forward for promotion and Julian had been among the two Starfleet had declined.

And now that he was on Cardassia nearly three months he had noticed he didn’t miss it. Not his uniform, not the hierarchy, not the work or the resources, not even being in space. True, he would prefer not to loose patients to completely treatable diseases and be able to actually heal injuries rather than just stitch them together and put band aid on them, but he was helping people, making a difference and quite literally every day brought new challenges he couldn’t even have imagined. So here he was, yet again doubting a long term commitment, one he had thought he would never want to abandon. Even just three years ago when he had thought he had to resign his commission it had felt like the end of his life. Now he wasn’t that sure anymore. He still clung to it, because he _did_ like being in Starfleet and because he had fought so hard to keep it, but there seemed to be other options now, some of which almost seemed more enticing. Damn, he was turning into his father, jumping ship at every turn, and that was the last person he would trust with the future of a child.

Garak shook his head with a surprisingly fond look on his face.

"I disagree." he said. "I have never had a more loyal and committed friend in my life, my dear."

Julian huffed. "That’s different."

"How?"

"It’s not...You are... It just is. You never ask anything of me." he tried to explain.

"I never have to," Garak replied seriously. "You always offer more than I would ever hope for."

"But you would never regard it as a failure if I didn’t offer." Julian pointed out.

"But you would," Garak smiled, "You think too low of yourself, still, my dear. But," he raised his hands in deference, "it is a decision you must make for yourself and I am glad to know you take the responsibility serious."


	14. Chapter 14

After nearly three months in Torr, Julian had gotten used to a certain routine. He worked the clinic during prisok’pey, while his colleagues followed a revolving shift roaster. Tomila shadowed him during his shifts. He had gone to the capital with Garak twice, leaving Parmak in charge for three days. He still felt a bit bad about it, but the Cardassian doctor assure him it was alright and he would be sure to ask Julian to cover for him should he be forced to go to the capital.

Once a week Julian and Tomila went on the rounds through the district and the rest of the time they treated everyone who came through the doors of the clinic. Garak and his work teams continued clearing out basements and Julian and the other’s took turns attending the spelunking. Fortunately there were no further tragedies, only minor accidents and scrapes. Most of their regular work involved the usual respiratory illnesses caused by the dust, slight work injuries and the ever present nutrition and hydration issues. They came in a steady tickle, so they were always kept busy but rarely overwhelmed.

One part of his job Julian liked particularly was his monthly visit to the school-cum-orphanage. Either Garak or the collected district had decided early on to do what could be done to maintain the supervision and education of the near three hundred children living in the district. More than half of them had lost one or both parents in the war and the Dominion assault on Prime. There were only a few who had been orphans before. There had already been a number of teachers living in the district and several others had volunteered to help take care of the children. One of the larger stabilised buildings had been allocated for that purpose and served as school and daycare during prisok’pey, and accommodation for about two thirds of the children during ta’.

Just like all other citizens of the district the children, too, where obliged to help out with the work according to their respective ages, so schooling only took place before lunch. An exception where the days reserved entirely for medical check ups. They did them a bit more often than Julian normally would have on a federation posting, but several of the children had suffered severe injuries that needed regular treatment even a year later and they all where susceptible to the various respiratory and nutritional deficiencies that were so common these days, which he needed to keep an eye on.

Julian had never been overly keen on paediatrics. Neither had be been particularly annoyed by it. It was part of his job as CMO on a space station and he dealt with it as a matter of course. He had been first in class at the academy in paediatrics but mostly he had allowed himself to excel there because it wasn’t a particularly prestigious field and most of his other high scoring colleagues hadn’t put much effort into it, so it was unlikely to draw much attention. He had approached it mostly from an academic point though, less with an eye towards patients. Only here on Cardassia had he come to really enjoy the interactions with the children, especially the young pre-teen ones.

Other than the adults, these kids had not yet been too deeply indoctrinated to distrust all things off-world and they hadn’t learned to obfuscate and make polite conversation by way of hinting and prodding either. As a result they approached Julian with fascination rather than distrust and, after some initial shyness was overcome, with open curiosity. While he had examined them the last time Julian had answered many questions about his smooth, dark skin, his lack of ridges or the fact that his body grew hair in the oddest of places. Which then in turn had led to other equally fascinating discoveries like that human’s where generally awake during light time and slept after the sun had set. This then had led to earth being much cooler than Cardassia and before Julian knew it he had been trying to explain the concept of a snowball fight to a group of children who had never seen snow and found the concept equally absurd and disconcerting.

This time the discussion seemed to dig a lot deeper very quickly. A young boy named Ettu had clearly spend a lot of time considering what he had learned the last time (Julian knew for a fact that he had seen him and several of his friends sneak off from their assigned work to secretly observe him more than once) and was now prepared to ask much more probing questions.

"Is there a lot of snow on earth?" he asked as soon as he had taken his place in front of Julian. Clearly the concept still baffled him. "We learned that humans come from earth in Ms Sessar’s class." he added proudly.

Julian nodded as he ran his tricorder over him. "That’s true. And it depends; there are some parts of earth where it never snows, where it’s almost as warm as on Cardassia. But there are areas where there is always snow. There is one continent which is always entirely covered in snow and ice." he told the boy, whose eyes widened.

"You live there?" he inquired, clearly incredulous.

"Not normally, no. But some people like it there." Julian chuckled.

Ettu made a face.

"I don’t like it either." Julian assured him. The boy’s scan came up as clear as was to be expected under the circumstances. "How is your back?" he asked anyway. Ettu had suffered severe burns on his lower back during the bombing. The heat had caused the scales in the area to melt and merge to one massive plate which had eventually fallen off, leaving only lightly charred skin behind. The skin had healed but Julian couldn’t imagine the pain the child must have been in. Parmak also judged it unlikely that the protective scales would ever grow back, leaving the boy far more exposed than any other Cardassian. Being the child he was, he often forgot about his tender back, scratching the skin raw when playing with his friends. The sheepish expression on Ettu’s face told Julian that that was exactly what had happened despite the boys muttered "is alright."

"Show me." he ordered, making the boy turn around and lift his tunic. It was as he had expected: Ettu’s back was covered in superficial scratches, most where at least several days old and some were slightly inflamed. Julian sighed and made to clear out the infected wounds.

"If you injure yourself you have to come to the clinic right away," he told the child, not for the first time. "We need to make sure you don’t get dirt in the cuts. If you’re not careful, dirt and dust can get into your blood and travel all over your body and do some serious damage." he tried to explain the seriousness of the matter without scaring the child unduly.

He finished the procedure and made Ettu promise to come to the clinic the next time he hurt himself. Julian didn’t have much hope that the boy would keep his promise, but told him to anyway before sending him on his way.

His next patient was a girl of about six years. Little Katina had impressed Julian from the first moment he had met her. She had lost part of her left leg and was forced to move around with the help of a crutch which she had already mastered to such an impressive degree that she was almost more nimble on it than some of her classmates on two legs. She had been lucky in that the wound had been properly tended to early on and didn’t cause her any long term problems. This was also likely the reason she was still alive.

She was always very quiet with him, though he suspected that that was mostly coquetry on her part. She would look at him with big, serious eyes and give him an absolutely blinding smile when he told her she was perfectly fine, before she would jump off the table, but she never let him out of her sight for a second. She sometimes reminded him a lot of Garak when they had first met.

She and her twin brother Sasko had lost both parents and Julian had noticed that they took great care of each other. Whenever he examined Katina, Sasko was already hovering nearby and Katina lingered, pretending to struggle with her crutch while Sasko was being tended to so they were never far apart.

Sasko seemed of a similar temperament as his sister but his shyness was much more genuine, whereas Julian suspected Katina wasn’t afraid of anything anymore. Sasko, too, had been injured in the bombing, and had lost the ability to hear on one ear and about 80% of his sight on one eye, both which caused him to always tilt his head slightly in compensation, giving him a continuously thoughtful expression.

He had unsurprisingly been very intrigued to learn that humans couldn’t see well in the dark and had less accurate depth perception than Cardassians. Julian could tell the moment the boy stepped in front of him that he had thought of more questions but didn’t dare asking so he started chatting on his own accord, asking questions himself to get the child to ease into talking.

"I’ve been watching prime sunset today and I thought about how Cardassians can see so many more colours than humans can," he told him, "It made me wonder what colour the sky has for you."

"Black." was the hesitant, but immediate answer.

"Even during ta’?" Bashir wondered. Sasko shook his head. He said a word Julian had never heard.

"Galeemaract?" He tried to repeat it, causing the boy to giggle and shake his head.

"GarImaract." he enunciated slowly. Julian repeated the word until Sasko nodded with a satisfied grin. One thing most Cardassians seemed to have in common was that they were exacting language teachers. Now after multiple repetitions he could dissect the parts that were familiar and take a guess at the words meaning.

"And what else has that colour?" he asked, trying to keep the boy talking. He had a good idea the word probably meant ultraviolet and he would ask Garak for confirmation later, but he was also interested in that part of Cardassian physique. He knew Cardassians could see ultraviolet light, as well as infrared, but even with his enhancements he couldn’t and was curious what the world could look like in that light.

Sasko frowned a little and pointed at one of the lights on Julian’s tricorder. For Julian it was completely white, confirming his suspicion.

"Oh?" he said, "Looks like I can’t see that colour at all."

Sasko tilted his head more than usual; an indication that he was actually thinking.

"So what color is the sky for you then?" he asked.

Julian could have cheered. But he contented himself with a warm smile and answered the question. "On Cardassia it’s a sort of brownish yellow, but on earth it’s blue. Almost like my uniform, but a bit darker." he explained.

The boy’s eyes widened. "Blue?" he repeated. Julian nodded. He watched as the child processed that information and finally started to giggle. "That’s weird." he decreed.

Garak did indeed confirm that GarImaract was ultraviolet. "Are our children teaching you the language now, my dear?" he asked slightly amused.

"A wise man takes up knowledge wherever it’s offered." Julian replied dignified before breaking out in a grin, "And the truth is we teach each other. I tell them about earth and the Federation and they tell me about other things. Like the colour of the sky on Cardassia."

"A color you can’t see, I believe."

"Which makes it all the more interesting. And it’s a nice change of pace from questions about my body."

Garak’s eyeridge twitched surprised. "I do hope that it merely an exceptionally unfortunate phrasing on your part, Doctor." he commented.

Julian laughed. "You know we have an expression on earth: Honi soit qui mal y pense: Evil to him who evil thinks. It’s usually applied to people with dirty minds." He couldn’t help but smile teasingly at Garaks exaggeratedly innocent look.

"I assure you, Doctor..." he started, but Julian interrupted him before he could start spinning whatever story he was planning on.

"As you well know, they ask mostly about human physiognomy, on the living example of me, because a lot about me seems strange to them." he chided his friend.

"Naturally. I doubt any of them have known much about humans before meeting you. It’s not the sort of thing a parent would tell their child about, back in the days before."

"Most of them don’t have any parents left now." Julian mused sadly. It occurred to him then that Garak was likely just like those children in that regard. Although remembering Tain he couldn’t truly think that was necessary a bad thing. But what about his mother?

"Do you have any family left?" Julian asked before he could think better of it.

Garak didn’t visibly flinch, but he stiffened slightly, enough for Julian to notice he had hit a nerve. He was just about to apologise when Garak said:

"Unfortunately I don’t. You know of my father’s fate, of course, and my mother was killed while she was housing members of the resistance."

For a moment Julian was stunned to have actually gotten an honest and, by Garak’s standards, direct answer. Before he could even figure out what to say his busy brain was already analysing data and the name dropped from is lips before he could stop himself. "Mila."

Garak nodded. He looked surprisingly pained. Julian resisted the urge to take his hand.

"I’m sorry." he said. "And there is no one else? No siblings, uncles, cousins?"

Garak shook his head. "I was always an only child. Another stain on my reputation." he huffed a bitter laugh. "And there are no other family members. Tain made sure all his staff were orphans. He didn’t like any rivals in their loyalty. He himself didn’t allow himself any close ties to his family himself. He famously had a brother once, but he died long before I was born. The official cause of death, I believe was a heart issue."

The way he emphasised the word ‘official’ made Julian shudder and gave him all sorts of ideas. He already regretted asking. He really didn’t need any more information about Enabran Tain to add to the picture of the monster he already had.

"What about your family?" Garak asked, thankfully changing the subject.

Julian shrugged. "You know I don’t have any siblings, and my parents had to cut ties with anyone who knew me when they took me to Adigeon Prime. If I have any aunts or uncles I don’t remember them."

He hadn’t really thought about that in years either. When he had found out about his enhancements there had been a time, but it had really only been a part of him questioning everything and he had never dared to search for anyone, out of fear it might draw attention to him and he hadn’t trusted his parents enough to ask. When he had been found out there had been so much else going on. He had been much more concerned with regaining any trust he might have lost with his friends and colleagues to go and search for people who didn’t even knew him. Then the war had really started and any personal considerations had been pushed into the back of his head and he had simply forgotten.

"I could ask my mother about it I guess." he mused. She had talked about reconnecting with some cousin recently, hadn’t she?

"And how are your parents?" Garak inquired, sounding way too harmless, "If you don’t mind me asking."

Julian rolled his eyes. "They’re alright, I guess. As you probably know my father has served his sentence and was released last year. He’s been his usual charming self about the fact that I haven’t visited him after all, never mind that I was a tad busy fighting a war." He noticed that he grew aggravated talking about his father, as he always did and always swore to himself he wouldn’t. That Richard wasn’t worth it. He took a deep breath reigning in the familiar frustration.

"I think he and my mother are having some problems with each other, but she doesn’t tell me about it. It’s just something I read between the lines of her letters. I’ve never asked about it. It doesn’t really feel like it’s my business. If they break up she’ll tell me, I guess."

It felt strange telling Garak about it. Especially considering the Cardassian had somehow apparently already guessed half of it, from the way he nodded and said "I suspected there was something." But saying it out loud also seemed to make it more true and at the same time further removed from Julian. It was the same strange feeling he had when he read his mothers letters: on the one hand like something that should impact him deeply and on some level did, but mostly it seemed so far away from his own life as if it happened to somebody else, no more real than a novel. Logically he tried to argue that it did happen to someone else. It happened to his parents and didn’t really have any direct influence on him personally. And yet they were his parents and to think of them as anything else than together felt indescribably strange. But at the same time it didn’t really seem to matter much.

He tried to explain this to Garak who, to Julian’s surprise, nodded in understanding.

"I suppose I felt the exact opposite about my parents." Garak admitted after a moment, avoiding Julian’s eyes at the confession. "I could never really imagine them together, even when I knew about my parentage it seemed more like a story... like the Bajoran prophets maybe: an irrefutable truth but yet almost impossible to believe in. And despite being so impossible it mattered. More than anything sometimes."

Julian nodded hesitantly. He couldn’t really imagine Tain being with someone that way either. He didn’t really want to, the image was simply too uncomfortable. It was always strange to talk about his own parents with someone, but talking with Garak about his was probably worse. And considering the influence Tain had had on Garak, probably still had, he had a good idea just how much the relationship of his parents had mattered to Garak. Julian could only imagine that it must have been deeply disturbing on many levels.

"It’s good to see that you have started to make new rules regarding the orphans at least in this district," he said after a moment. "Hopefully someone can convince the next government to adopt a similar policy. The Cardassian children have suffered enough." And not just the children, he added mentally.


	15. Chapter 15

Over lunch Garak kept a keen eye on the sky. The wind had picked up in the last few hours and even though theoretically all three moons where out tonight, they kept being hidden by quickly moving clouds.

The Doctor of course noticed that he was distracted and followed his eyes. "Looks like the sky is alive." he commented.

Garak nearly snorted. "I assure you, Doctor, there is no need for your human tendency to anthropomorphize the sky, even when life is currently less than ideal on the ground."

"That’s not what I meant, and you know it," Bashir replied without malice, "but something is up with the sky, otherwise you wouldn’t be staring up all the time."

"I’m merely worried about the weather, Doctor. At this time of the year it is not unusual for heavy storms to occur and I fear we might be facing the first of the season."

Now the Doctor, too, was looking at the sky with a much more obvious look of concern. "How heavy are we talking?" he asked.

"Highest recorded wind speed was 300 samlanuj per union hour, but the average is more around 150. Heavy rain if we were a bit later in the season, too, although I don’t dare hope for that so early in the year, so it’ll probably just be wind and lightning."

"300 s/uh?" Bashir’s eyes bulged. "That’s nearly 350 km/h."

"I take your word for it, Doctor." Garak really didn’t have time to debate the finer points of measuring systems. He needed to make a decision and if the faint flickering on the horizon was any indication he needed to make it fast.

As if he had heard his thoughts Eltek ambled over to him. He, too, kept peeking at the sky. "Do you think it’s wise to continue working today?" he asked Garak.

"If there is a storm coming we need to get people to safety," Bashir insisted. "Will the houses be able to withstand a storm?"

The two Cardassians exchanged a look.

"They should," said Eltek eventually. "As long as they’re not struck by lightning."

"Then we need to get people inside," Bashir pressed. "Garak, we don’t have the capacity to treat massive amounts of injuries."

Garak hesitated. A part of him saw the need to press on with their work. Every day they didn’t would cost them valuable crops by the end of the year. But his dominant concern was to keep people alive to work the fields they were preparing. With another look at the horizon he nodded.

"Tell everyone to get inside and secure doors and windows." he told Eltek. Thunder rumbled audibly in the distance as if to underline his words. The older man nodded and headed off.

"What about you?" Bashir asked suspiciously. Of course the doctor had noticed that he had made no efforts to help Eltek.

"I’ll secure the supplies." he replied. Somebody had to, right now the buildings were barely locked and they couldn’t afford to loose any of their precious supplies. And he couldn’t really ask anyone else to do it.

Clearly the doctor caught the implication, for his face hardened. "You’re not going alone."

Garak nearly growled. A federation answer if ever he heard one. "Doctor you will be much more needed in the clinic." he pointed out.

"And who is going to drag you there when you get injured on the way?" Bashir demanded.

"Doctor, I assure you I am perfectly capable of handling myself and should any thing happen to me I am much more expendable than you."

The look Bashir gave him was not unlike the one he had received moments before the doctor had shot him in the neck. "It’ll be done faster if there’s two of us and if we don’t waste more time arguing about it." Bashir said, is voice allowing for no further argument.

Garak permitted himself a moment to regret that the Doctor’s deliciously dominant side only ever came out like this when they were about to be killed. The man really had no sense of timing. Neither did he apparently. This really was not the time to indulge in any more _thoughts_ about the doctor. They had become increasingly persistent in the last few months, almost more so than during the worst times on Deep Space 9. Usually in the most inconvenient moments.

"I see there is no stopping either of us then." he acquiesced gruffly and stalked off without a second look at Bashir.

By the time they reached the outbuildings that stored the various treasures of the district, the wind had picked up some more and the frequency and intensity of lighting and thunder had increased. The sky was almost entirely covered by now, rendering it distinctly darker than usual.

Garak and Bashir split up, each taking over one building where they tied down everything they could and secured the doors after themselves as best as was possible. Thanks to Garak’s general worry of thieves that was quite secure. They met at the third building and repeated the procedure together. All in all it took less than ten minutes, but that time was enough for the darkness to thicken to almost pitch black and the wind to pick up even more. It tore on their bodies now, making walking increasingly difficult and turned the omnipresent dust and sand into tiny pins that slashed into them. The temperature had dropped significantly as well and every few seconds the darkness was torn apart by bright flashes of lighting.

"I’m not sure we’ll make it back to the hospital." Bashir yelled over the storm. A flash of light revealed the Doctor squinting, one hand holding his breathing mask in place, the other held up to protect his face.

Suddenly a strong hand grabbed Garak’s arm at almost light speed and pulled him to the side, just in time to dodge a fist size bolder that now flew past him at chest height.

"Why, thank you, Doctor." Garak said, a little surprised to find himself so unexpectedly face to face with Bashir, his own hand on the Doctor’s shoulder where it had landed when he had tried to steady himself.

"We need to get inside somewhere." Bashir urged, his voice unusually quiet. Garak only heard him over the storm because he was practically speaking in his ear. He took a step back to gather his thoughts.

"We do." he agreed. Without further hesitation he grabbed Bashir’s hand and pulled him along towards where he knew the next stable building stood. They fought their way through the storm, occasionally dodging flying debris, always fighting against the wind and the sand, but never letting go of each other. In truth the building was only a few samlan away, but they were breathing heavily by the time they made it to the door and Garak pounded against it. It took a moment in which Garak couldn’t be sure if locks were engaged. The storm was too noisy to hear anything from inside the house. But then the door opened, at first only a crack, but then the wind got a hold of it and pushed it all the way open with force. They stumbled inside and immediately turned to help close the door again. It took several people pushing against the wind to get it closed again, but they managed and the moment the lock engaged someone bolted the door and the next thing that was heard was the sound of furniture being moved in front of it.

It could only be heard, not seen. The moment the door closed a black darkness had descended on the room. Unlike outside, there were no lighting flashes to disrupt the darkness and give short glimpses of the surrounding, just impenetrable darkness. Garak felt his throat suddenly constrict and a small gasp escaped him. Within seconds he felt Bashir’s hand slip back into his. The part of him that wasn’t currently fighting a panic attack wondered if the Doctor’s enhancements gave him the power of echolocation.

"It’ll be alright. I’m here." Bashir whispered, quiet enough that Garak was certain no one else in the room could hear him. He could feel the Doctor’s warm breath against his jawridges. Apparently he had taken off his dust filter. Garak tried to focus on the sensation, and closed his eyes to lock out the darkness. He gave the Doctor’s hand a quick squeeze.

"How about we find a place to sit? I’m guessing we’ll be stuck here for a while." Bashir suggested.

Garak nodded, before he realised that the Doctor couldn’t see him. He was equally embarrassed and thankful for the fact. Covering up his gaffe he hastened to answer. "I’m afraid you might be right, Doctor." he said, aiming for a lightness he didn’t feel.

Neither of them moved.

"I have no idea of the outline of this room." Bashir admitted after a moment. "For all I know we could be standing right in front of a wall."

Garak doubted it. He, too, had lost track of their exact location, but he was familiar of the general outline of these kinds of houses. Still, just to be sure he carefully extended the hand that wasn’t holding on to Bashir.

"It would seem not, Doctor." he said. Where had the other people in the room gone to, he wondered absently. He carefully attempted a small step, inadvertently pulling the Doctor along with him. Bashir stumbled a little but stayed by his side. To Garak’s utter surprise he started to giggle.

"Do you find this situation funny, Doctor?" he asked, unable to hide the feeling of personal affront. Really they were caught in a pitch black room in a storm that might destroy weeks of work, not to mention kill a number of people, he was still fighting off the feeling that the walls were closing in, while simultaneously attempting not to run into one and Bashir apparently thought all this hilarious.

"A little." the doctor admitted. "It reminds me a bit of games I used to play as a child."

"A game?" he asked a little nonplussed but not disinterested, "In the dark?"

"There are actually a lot of human games that involve darkness or blindfolding," Bashir confirmed, while he attempted another step forward. "I’m assuming you’d be the type to enjoy murder in the dark, although you’d probably arrest everyone. But this situation is more like Blind Man’s Bluff. In that one, one player gets blindfolded and has to feel their way around, trying to catch the others."

How peculiar. The two of them had never much talked about games, or children’s activities in general before and all Garak knew about childrearing on earth came from his observations of the O’Brien children and that seemed to revolve mostly around telling insipid stories and colouring.

"You played this as a child?" he asked.

"Sometimes," Bashir confirmed, "though I’d have to admit that my favourite was always one called Hit the Pot." Garak could hear the grin in the Doctor’s voice. Apparently he had fond memories of that game, which was enough to entice Garak to inquire further about it

"Let me guess, it involves hitting a pot?" he asked, hiding his intrigue behind his usual sarcasm. It wouldn’t do to show his curiosity about every aspect of the Doctor’s life.

Bashir laughed quietly. "I admit it’s not the most creative name. But quite apt. Yes, that is the goal. It’s usually played by small children. One get’s blindfolded and given a wooden spoon or the like and then has to find a pot that it hidden somewhere in the room by banging around with the spoon. Usually there are sweets under the pot as a reward for finding it. The other kids will watch and shout clues for the blind one to find the pot."

Garak tilted his head intrigued. What a thoroughly odd game.

"Pray, Doctor, what exactly is the purpose of this game?" he asked. There was a slight pull on his hand, probably indicating the Doctor had shrugged.

"I suppose you could say it helps with coordination and team work, but really I think it’s mainly a way to keep a group of children busy for half an hour. It might have had a purpose once, though I doubt it. Most human games don’t serve much of a purpose other than entertainment. If they do they’re usually called sport.” Bashir chuckled. “Is that different on Cardassia?"

"Most games for children are supposed to teach them a lesson or hone certain skills." Garak explained. "Some train certain areas of the brain or a certain muscle group. Those kinds of games are also played by adults."

"So, no games just for the fun of it." Bashir concluded and took another tentative step forward. While talking they had continued to move and Garak would venture to say they had covered quite a bit of ground, prompting him to keep his free hand in front of him. Without him noticing the unseen walls had receded and stopped bothering him. He still kept his eyes closed.

"Oh, they can be a lot of fun, Doctor," he disagreed. “But I will admit fun isn’t the main point.”

There was no answer from the doctor, instead Garak heard a dull thud and a sharp "Ow, damn!" from the human next to him.

"There is something in front of us," Bashir told him, "hard, probably wood, just above my knee." Carefully Garak leaned forward and felt around in front of him. The mysterious attacker of Bashir’s knee turned out to be a bench, one that seemed unoccupied, so the two of them sat down. Somehow they managed it without letting go of each other’s hands.

"How are you doing?" the doctor asked once they had arranged themselves more or less comfortable.

"I’m glad I’m no longer stumbling about in the dark." Garak replied, consciously sidestepping the doctor’s actual question. He could imagine the look Bashir was giving him in return, but he didn’t comment.

"I do, however, still have several questions about those children’s games." Garak said.

They continued to talk and bicker amicably about cultural differences and it was as if they were sitting in the Replimat on DS9 or in the ha’amox in the capital again rather than in complete darkness in a room likely full of people while a storm was raging outside. If he focused, Garak could just about sense the other people in the room, who surely huddled together and were talking quietly among each other as well. But in the dark, with the storm howling and the thunder rumbling outside it was easy to forget about them, knowing they wouldn’t hear a word of their conversation any more than Garak could hear them and maybe, just maybe because of that Garak let himself go a little more than he had been in Torr so far.

All the while he did steadfastly not think about the fact that he was still holding Bashir’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Samlanuj is a distance measure in the EKD, defined as 0.92 km. A samlan is 1.13 m.   
> The Union Hour is my own invention and it’s a bit over 0.78 hours. I’m as yet undecided how many UH are in a day, but 30 sounds about right. In that case the Cardassian day would be about 23, 5 earth hours long.


	16. Chapter 16

Garak almost didn’t notice when it was over. Only at some point he could hear someone talk at what he assumed was the other end of the room and he noticed how quiet it had become. The Doctor seemed to notice, too, because he interrupted his chatter for a moment.

"Do you think it’s over?" he asked quietly. They both sat there listening for a while. Garak was certain Bashir could hear the quiet better than him, but even with his inferior Cardassian hearing he could make out that the thunder had stopped and he could no longer hear the howling of the wind.

"Should we open the door?" someone asked from the dark.

"Maybe we should try a window first, if we have that option." Garak suggested equally aimlessly into the darkness.

"Got it." A young voice, coming from his right. Next was the sound of screeching metal and then a fine slither of light appeared widening slowly until it gave a nice, full round of view of the outside.

"Looks clear." the young voice, as Garak could see now it belong to a girl named Is’ha, judged. She was right. The wind had stopped and the sky was yet again clear.

On the other side of the room furniture was moved and the door opened. Without thought Garak breathed a sigh of relief. Bashir gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Let’s get you outside." he murmured, low enough that only Garak could hear.   
He nodded and slowly they got to their feet and stepped outside. The second sun was already high, painting the world clearly visible in its pale light. Dust was high in the air, worse than normally. Clearly there had been no rain, just like Garak had predicted.   
At first sign not much had changed. The ubiquitous rubble had been blown onto the streets, reminding Garak eerily of the first few months after the war, but the buildings all seemed in no worse shape than before.

Then they heard the shouts. Cautiously nearing the source of the commotion they nearly ran into Lysal.

"Oh, thank the fortunes, I thought we lost you," she exclaimed at the sight of Bashir. "The old agra tree has fallen onto the Roja Mansion and brought half the building down with it," she reported. "There are people inside."

Garak ground his teeth. That building had been one of the remaining unstable ones and he had put out strict orders for no one to enter it. But of course people hadn’t been bothered by such details when they were hiding from a storm. It was also a shame about the tree. It had been one of only seventeen left in Torr.

"Are Kalek and Parmak at the clinic?" Bashir asked. Garak tried not to take it personal that the Doctor had finally let go of his hand. Lysal nodded.

"Good. They need to stay there and treat people when they come in. You and me we take the house. If you can find Tomila she can come with us." The nurse nodded again and darted off without wasting another second.

"We’ll need the cart and the wheelbarrows." the doctor turned back to Garak. The Cardassian nodded.

"I’ll go back to the storage buildings and bring them," he assured his friend. "I’ll meet you at the house. Collect anyone you meet on the way to help." And thus they headed off in different directions.

At the storage Garak noted with great satisfaction that the buildings had weathered the storm without major damage. One of the doors was cracked, probably from being hit by a particularly nasty rock, but it had held. He had met Eltek and three other men on the way and conscripted them to come with him. In the sheds he loaded the cart and wheelbarrows with rope and the pulleys they used for cleaning out the basements and then added every shovel, saw or other tool he could find that might be useful. Fortunately, thanks to their spelunking missions, they had more now than they had had during the first time after the war, when every day had been digging through rubble and collapsed building in the hopes of finding survivors rather than more dead bodies.

In the meantime more people had arrived at the storage building. There seemed to be a deep rooted desire to check that their supplies where still safe. He ordered Eltek and Oktar to do a headcount of the district and start search teams for anyone who might have gotten lost. The rest of the group he let pick up the tools and follow him to the collapsed building.

The place was already busy when they arrived. The younger Lakar had taken to organising the rescue with one team venturing in the building from the entrance and one trying to get in through the whole made by the tree. He couldn’t see Bashir immediately, but Tomila was bustling to and fro, treating scratches and smaller wounds.

Lakar approached Garak as soon as she saw him and together they planned their angle of attack. Bringing the pulley turned out to have been a stroke of genius, as it became clear that there were several people trapped, injured but alive underneath the tree, which was too heavy to be moved by hand.

Bashir joined them, just when they discussed how to go about moving it. Together they devised a plan to liberate the trapped persons without causing them any more injuries. The two people, a man named Grenta and a woman named Issal were severely injured but still alive. Grenta was first loaded onto the cart and one of the men, accompanied by Tomilla pulled him to the clinic. The Doctor took care of Issal as well as he could and Garak turned his attention to the freshly ruined house and joined the people who removed rubble and rocks as fast and carefully as possible to free whoever was still underneath.

The Doctor joined them five minutes later and the grim look on his face told Garak all he needed to know. Fortunately they had just discovered a cavern in the ruins from which knocking could be heard. It was a familiar sign in an all too familiar situation. All of them, the doctor excluded had spend the first month or so digging through rubble, searching for survivors, mostly finding bodies. The collective memories were so tangible they almost hurt like the real thing. Garak rarely allowed himself to look back on that time, but in this moment it was almost unavoidable. Bashir’s presents next to him alleviated the pain of the memories somewhat, but more than anything it reminded him how much he had missed his friend during these first, terrible months back on his home world.

The last year had been the most miserable of Garaks life. More miserable even than the first year in exile or the first year after his implant had been deactivated. Back then at least he had had the doctor.

Admittedly that first year would probably have been just as miserable if Bashir had been by his side. Famine, death and destruction were not deterred by the presents of one single human, but it would have made them easier to bear. Garak remembered times three, four months into this first year when he had been paralyzed by loneliness, fear and hopelessness. He had been overwhelmed by the devastation of it all, a feeling like he was buried under tons of rocks, like so many of the dead, that slowly squeezed the breath from his lungs. He remembered entire days when he had been incapable of moving, when all he could do was sit and sob, and other days when he was so desperate he wanted to scream, but he didn’t have the energy for it.

Once unstable communications had been restored Bashir’s letters had been beacons for him during that time, moments of light in utter darkness. No matter how inane, arrogant or inconsiderate these letters were, they showed him a world beyond the daily suffering, the death and the dust he was surrounded by. And the doctor’s light, friendly words, had been a comfort, just like Bashir’s company in any form had always been for him.

The letters had become a marker of time for him. Especially when the days blurred together into a constant blend of misery and hunger, he had started measuring time no longer in days or weeks but in letters, and as things started slowly, oh so slowly, to improve, he had begun planning his time in letters. ‘We’ll clear this field of rubble until the doctor’s next letter’, he had thought or ‘when I next write to the doctor I’ll be able to tell him about the house we secured for living. We’ll have to get it done by then.’

Sure, he had gotten other letters. From Lieutenant Dax, occasionally even from Colonel Kira, but it had always been the doctor’s letters he had been waiting for whenever he went to claim his time on a computer, the doctor’s letters when he had been thinking about writing or receiving messages and the doctor’s letters when he thought about events outside of Cardassian space that he heard about.

And now the doctor was here. He was here, he saw him every day, he had just spend half his day distracting Garak from his claustrophobia, and right now they were digging through rubble together, as if he had been here all along. And the irony was that Garak knew with absolute certainty that greater even than his claustrophobia was his fear of a time when Bashir wouldn’t be by his side anymore.

So Garak made a decision. The doctor had indicated that he had been waiting for Garak and had further indicated that he might still be waiting, but there was no way of telling how long he would still be willing to wait. He had waited for eight years more or less, after all. The conditions of his posting here gave no details on its length. Bashir could leave tomorrow if he decided he was no longer needed or simply had enough of this place, the people and the lack of decent food and sanitation. If he had no reason to stay.

Garak knew of course that the Doctor might leave anyway. If he felt he was needed more somewhere else, if something unforeseeable happened he might leave and nothing Garak had to offer would hold him back. But as he watched his dear doctor hurry back and forth over the collapse site, treating countless minor, and not so minor injuries, _caring_ , caring for the people of this district, his people, Garak also knew he would spend the rest of his likely miserable life regretting it if he didn’t offer everything he had to keep the doctor right here. By his side.

That decision made, he dug back in to try and do his part in minimising the damage the storm had done to his district.

They found others. Three more severely injured and Bashir returned to the clinic with one of them, leaving Lysal in charge of the rescue. When he came to the clinic hours later, just as the prime sun started to rise, Garak was not surprised to find that the doctor was still busy at work. Thanks to the storm there hadn’t been time for cooking that evening, so for once Oktar and her helpers merely handed out ration bars. Garak had managed to secure some for the hospital staff which he now delivered. At the moment all four of them were bustling about the clinic, treating more patients than they had room to accommodate.   
When Bashir caught his eye in between patients, he came over. With a grateful expression he grabbed the ration bar Garak held out for him and began chewing while he gave a preliminary report.

"We’re currently treating nineteen people, seven will have to stay here over ta’," he said, between bites. "Parmak is still working on Selar and we won’t know if Grenta will make it through until tomorrow. So far we lost three. The rest will be fine in time."

"Five." corrected Garak quietly. "We found Kantak in one of the pits, probably slipped and fell, and BoChek was hit by a rock. We’re still missing three."

Bashir sucked in a deep breath. Stuffing the last remnants of his dinner in his mouth he said "I need to get back to work."

"You need to take a break, Doctor," Garak disagreed. "You’ve been on your feet since yan."

"And half that time I spend locked in the dark, doing nothing. I still have patients." Bashir insisted.

"Who, according to your own report, will not die if you take five minutes to clear your head, Doctor. I’m not saying stop working, although you should only go as long as absolutely necessary; I’m only saying take a moment to catch your breath, my dear." Garak coaxed.

To his great relief the Doctor threw him an exasperated look but conceded. "Fine. Five minutes," he said with a sigh, "Let’s go outside."

Garak suppressed a triumphant smile.

As soon as they were on the square in front of the clinic Garak took the Doctor’s hand and led him around one corner and then another and another. Bashir followed without putting up any resistance, even though he sounded somewhere between annoyed and amused when he asked "Where are you taking me, Garak?"

He didn’t answer until they had arrived at the place he had aimed for. It was a back yard between two houses, facing eastward, open enough for the sun to be seen, as it rose over the horizon, but hidden enough for him to be fairly sure they wouldn’t be observed or interrupted. It was a terrible time to be doing this, he knew. They were both exhausted, both physically and emotionally. People had been dying again today, some where still missing and many where injured. But they were alive. The two of them were alive and unharmed and if today had proven anything than that this was not something to be taken for granted. And to see Bashir here, now in the warm light of the first sunbeams, tired, but whole and utterly vibrant made Garak feel alive, too, alive and brave and not willing to waste another moment.

"There is something I need to do." he said to his friend.

Bashir quirked an eyebrow and looked around. "Here?" he asked. Garaks hands on his arms stilled him and a peculiar look filled his face when he met Garaks eyes. "And what would that be?" he asked, almost a whisper.

Garak held his eyes, those warm, sparkling eyes that had captured him the first time they had set on him. He allowed himself to drown in them, to become everything, fill his field of vision.   
"This." he murmured quietly and slowly, gently brought their foreheads together.

They stayed that way for a moment, heads connected, eyes locked and Garak almost trembled, both overwhelmed with emotion and dreading Bashir’s reaction. He could see that the human understood something important was happening, but he could also see the questions in his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Bashir asked quietly and Garak noticed that his voice sounded slightly breathy.

Garak knew that, even more than the actual touch, this was the moment that would decide if he had been reading the doctor right, made the right decision, so he tried his best to open his face, to show all the hope and fear, affection and longing he felt for the man in front of him in his eyes, which still held Bashir’s without blinking. "Making a move." he said quietly.

For a moment the doctor was silent and Garak started to wonder if he was still breathing. But then Bashir moved back and broke their gaze. His expression was a mixture of tenderness and slight confusion, and now it was Garak who seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. One curious finger very gently moved along the rim of Garak chufa, sending a shiver through his body, much more so than the human’s smooth forehead had done.

"Very sensitive," Bashir murmured, before his eyes lit up and searched Garak’s again. "Is this how Cardassians kiss?"

"I can’t say I have enough experience with the human practice of kissing, Doctor." Garak replied. He was fighting the strong urge to pull the Doctor back against his forehead. "This is called anshwar, and yes," he held Bashir’s eyes, searching for even a hint of rejection, "it is a gesture of affection with distinct romantic connotation if done with someone outside your family."

He forced himself to continue to breathe as Bashir digested that bit of information. For a moment the doctor seemed to mull it all over and then his face lit up in a blinding smile. Carefully he leaned in and brought his forehead back to Garak’s.

Garak’s eyes fluttered shut at the sensation and the intense sense of relieve that flooded his entire body. It must have shown on his face, because Bashir chuckled quietly.

"First kiss at sunrise. I always suspected you were a hopeless romantic." he whispered, beaming at him.

"Please, my dear, don’t ascribe any of your human sentimentalities to me. I simply knew I wouldn’t be able to pry you away from your work until the last possible moment."

Bashir’s eyes positively glowed and it was not just the light from the rising sun. "Of course." he said with a grin. "You were only being practical."

"Naturally."

Another chuckle.

"I really shouldn’t be surprised Cardassians found a way to kiss that doesn’t keep you from talking." Bashir observed.

"Of course," Garak replied smugly, "How would you continue to flirt if you can’t talk?"

"Some might say there’s no need to flirt while you’re kissing."

"But since we are not kissing..."

"Hmmm, about that...," Bashir sounded a little uncertain. Not displeased, but uncertain. It still made Garak’s breath stuck in his throat.

"Would you mind terribly, if I kissed you anyway?"

The air escaped Garak in one rush. "Well, since you are human, not Cardassian, I suppose some concessions..."

He was cut of by a pair of insistent lips on his.

It was... interesting. A bit wet. Garak’s previous personal experience with kissing was limited to a sample size of one. Back then it had confounded him more than anything. It had also been, as he found out now, a rather innocent kiss, nothing more than a press of lips. Whatever it was Julian (yes he was certainly Julian now, at least in the privacy of Garak’s own head) was doing, it had nothing to do with the peck Ziyal had given him upon his return from the Dominion prison camp. It also had nothing to do with anshwar either. For one thing it seemed a lot more active. Julian’s lips moved over and between his, and after a moment’s hesitation Garak tired to mimic the movements. The other thing was that in an anshwar bodily contact was limited to hands and chufa, focusing the sensation on those points. With kissing the point seemed to be to create as much contact as possible. Julian’s hands were on his neck, in his hair, moving over his arms, shoulders and over his back, to his cheeks and back up in his hair. At the same time the human was pressing his entire body against Garak, shoulder to thigh and Garak’s own hands had somehow landed on Julian’s hips, automatically pulling him closer. And while the more detached part of his mind was cataloguing all of this, a more primal one realised with a hint of panic that he was running out of air.

He was almost ready to push the doctor away, when he pulled back on his own accord. He only moved his head back though; his arms remained tightly wrapped around the Garak.

Garak noted with some relieve that the human, too, was breathing rather heavily. But the smile on his reddened, spit-glistening lips was beatific.

"I’ve wanted to do that for years now." he declared and leaned his forehead against Garak’s again.

"So have I." he agreed, even though he definitely referred to the anshwar. But maybe he could get used to the kissing, if he could figure out how to breathe at the same time.

He got another opportunity to practice when Julian pulled him into another kiss a few moments later before he extracted himself from Garak’s embrace with clear regret.

"I need to get back."

Gark nodded. "Of course. Try and get some sleep, my dear."

The Doctor grinned widely and pressed another peck to his lips. "I’ll see you tomorrow." he said and with that hurried back to the clinic, not without throwing a look back over his shoulder once or twice before he turned a corner and was out of sight.


	17. Chapter 17

Julian did make it into bed eventually and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

It wasn’t until he woke up, surprisingly rested, that the events of the previous day caught up with him. There had not been time to be giddy yesterday. Once he’d been back to the clinic there had been still too many patients demanding his attention and he had been forced to push his own feelings and thoughts aside and put a lid on it for the time being.

But now, lying in his bed, hearing Kalek snoring on the other side of the room he couldn’t help the wide, goofy grin that stole onto his face. He had kissed Garak. Garak had kissed him. Or anshwared him. Anyway, he had made a move! Finally after all these years of flirting and denying themselves, and those last weeks of being not quite sure, Garak (was he Elim now?) had finally made a move.

And what a move it had been. Julian had long suspected that Garak was a romantic soul deep down under all his sarcasm and cynicism. He was happy to have found that confirmed now. Admittedly he wouldn’t have thought as much of it were he still on DS9, but under the current circumstances he couldn’t really expect a candle lit dinner and string quartet. He had gotten a ration bar personally delivered, a beautiful view over the rising sun and most importantly Garak alone, away from all prying eyes, opening up like never before. And Julian was very much aware of the significance of the timing. A day full of death, that had likely reminded Garak of the early days after his return, but also a day they had almost entirely spend together, which hadn’t happened even once since he had arrived in Torr.

As he got up Julian tried hard to get the grin off his face. It was probably not an appropriate expression in a village that had just lost seven people.

He made it through his first round of check-ups with an adequately sombre expression. The state of some of the patients was enough to push the smile off his face. But when he stepped out for lunch and saw Garak waiting for him it was back in full force and would not be denied.

He would have loved to greet his friend, now more than friend? with an anshwar, but Garak seemed to anticipate this and pre-emptively held up his hand for their usual greeting. Julian did feel a twinge of disappointment, but then again he didn’t know the full implications of the gesture other than ‘gesture of affection with romantic connotation’. In addition there was still a lot about their relationship to be defined, so it was likely that Garak wouldn’t want to engage in any public displays of affection at this stage. So he just pressed his hand against Garak’s and gave up on any attempt to reign in the smile determined to take over his face.

The expression on Garak’s face was slightly more restrained, but in comparison to his usual polite smiles he was practically beaming.

"You look very well, my dear, considering yesterdays hardships. I assume you did make it to bed in time after all."

"Maybe I just slept exceptionally well," Julian replied and his smile widened impossibly. "I do have several questions about some of yesterday’s events."

Garak tilted his head a little. "I’d be disappointed if you didn’t." he said warmly.

"Good." Julian grinned, "First of, did you find the girl?"

Garak’s smile fell just a little. Of the two people still missing when Garak had come to the clinic the night before, one had been found, dead unfortunately, before Julian had gone to bed, but the last one, a girl of six, had still been missing last he had heard. It was a perfectly normal thing to ask, but clearly not what Garak had expected and Julian delighted in being able to throw him off balance. It wouldn’t do to be predictable and he was going to ask about them soon enough.

"Yes, we did. It appears she hid in a basement under one of the houses to be safe, where she fell asleep. She was found just before secondary sunset last ta’." the Cardassian replied.

Relieved that he hadn’t spoiled the next part in their conversation by bringing up bad news Julian allowed himself a pleased nod.

"I’m glad to hear it." he said genuinely, "That means I needn’t feel bad to be much more interested in the answers to my other questions."

Garak quirked an eyeridge. "I assure you Doctor, there is no need for you to feel bad about asking any questions you may have. I am very familiar with that human churlishness of yours."

Julian suppressed the rather childish urge to stick out his tongue. "At least we can actually exchange information without leaving any space for misunderstandings." he bit back, quietly to not be overheard flirting. "But since we are on the topic of manners, I assume anshwar is not to be done in public."

At that Garak’s smile returned in full force. "You are right doctor, it isn’t." Of course he didn’t offer any further information, after all that would have been too easy.

Thankfully Julian had thought about this in advance. He had realised he had never seen the gesture done, although he had met couples, which indicated that it was a thing to do in private. Cardassians had several of those as he had learned. What had surprised him more, was that he had also never read about it, although he had the sneaking suspicion that that was once again the UT going for ‘close enough’ rather than an extensive footnote. The program really didn’t deal well with untranslatable cultural concepts. Either that or...

"Is it in any way inappropriate?"

Garak shook his head with the slightly chiding expression that said ‘really doctor, this is where your mind goes?’. "Not exactly," he said, "it’s not so much inappropriate as impolite."

Julian frowned confused. "How so?"

Garak sighed. "Think about it, my dear. What happens when you do it?"

"You touch your chufa to your partner’s. It’s a sensitive organ which is why I thought it might be considered indecent." Julian replied.

"While this is true in principle," Garak conceded, "it is hardly a concern as long as only the rims touch. The centre of the chu’en is much more sensitive as you should know by now. Think more about context. When you do it, what do you see?"

Julian was very much aware that his expression now was thoroughly befuddled. It was an expression he had long ago discovered Garak liked evoking in him. That knowledge however made it none the less genuine. "You. Not overly well, but you."

Garak nodded emphatically. "Exactly. Now imagine you’re a Cardassian. Our depth perception is better than humans even at a close range, so we do see the other’s face rather well actually but that’s not the point. Well, not entirely. What else do you see?"

Julian was still confused, but he also got the feeling he was getting closer to the heart of the matter. "Well, Cardassian’s don’t have the best peripheral vision, because of your eyeridges, so, not much?"

"Exactly." Garak repeated. The look on his face indicated that Julian had all the facts and should have the result ready to present. He thought through what he knew about Cardassian social norms. The Cardassian society was made up of an intricate network of social connections. Every individual was defined by their position within that network and their relation to the whole of society.

"When you anshwar," he said slowly, as if testing the words before he spoke them, "you are completely focused on the person in front of you, to almost the exclusion of everything else around you. So doing it in public would mean you cut yourself off from the people around you in favour of that one person."

The way Garak beamed at him told him he had hit the nail on the head.

"’Expression of romantic affection’ sounds like a slight understatement when you look at it that way." Julian added teasingly. If this was the connotation of this gesture, even ‘expression of great affection’ might fall a bit short. He was a little lightheaded with that realisation. Garak only shrugged. "I was under the impression you got the gist of it."

Julian decided not to argue that matter for the moment. "Right, so anshwar is a gesture of affection, but not overly erotic, the way a kiss could be. Not used in foreplay, I assume?"

"Most certainly not." Garak sounded almost offended.

"But I’m assuming you do have something like that."

"Naturally. We are private and decorous people, not Vulcans."

"But you’re not going to tell me what it is."

"This is hardly the kind of thing to be discussed publically, seeing as we are private and decorous people." Garak said, but then a sly smile flitted over his face, "However, as a physician you are certainly aware that Cardassians have very sensitive fingers."

Julian could only grin. He’d figure it out eventually.

"So neither of these is suitable for doing in public. What exactly would be appropriate for us to do here and now?" he asked instead. It was a double layered question, suitable for courting a Cardassian, he thought. Superficially he was asking about social norms and customs, but underlying was the question how Garak wanted to frame the new aspect in their relationship.

Garak took some time to answer.

"For the moment I would prefer it, if we could continue to limit ourselves to yut’amn, as we have been doing." he said after a moment. Once again Julian felt a stab of disappointment. Had he red too much into Garak’s actions? No, he couldn’t believe that and after the revelation about the deep meaning of anshwar he was actually more convinced that he might have underestimated its importance for his friend. So had he already ruined it?

Apparently his doubts were written all over his face, because Garak put a hand on his arm and looked at him with a kind of fond exasperation he sometimes adapted when Julian was in his opinion especially naive or obtuse.

"I believe it is the best way to proceed for the time being, considering we haven’t had the chance to discuss the exact implications of those gestures. I would hate for the entire district to know about the nature of our relationship before we do ourselves."

Julian nodded relieved. "Then we should figure it out soon. Somehow I doubt we’ll be able to keep a secret for long."

Garak agreed. "I’d suggest an occasion when we are not pressed for time and a location where we are unlikely to be disturbed. Say the same as yesterday? Barring any unforeseen circumstances."

Julian nodded. "Sounds perfect. 

As agreed they met in the hidden backyard again just before prime sunrise. Julian arrived a little early, impatient as he was to finally, potentially for the first time in their acquaintance, have some clarity about their relationship.

Garak still beat him to the punch. When Julian arrived in the little yard, the Cardassian was already there, clearing a small spot for them to sit down. He had brought two bowls of stew and placed them in front of him just when Julian came around the corner. Quickly he got to his feet and this time he did greet the human with anshwar, breathing deeply, as if the gesture brought him relief from intense pain. Julian certainly understood the feeling and allowed him the gesture for a long moment before speaking.

"I would really like to kiss you." he murmured when he couldn’t bear it any longer. Even though he could now appreciate the intimacy of the gesture, it still didn’t do very much for him on a sensual level, his forehead being a lot less sensitive than the Cardassian facial ridges. Garak smiled widely and brought their lips together on his own accord. He was a little clumsy, clearly not quite sure how to move his lips for the right effect, but he seemed eager enough and for now that was all Julian needed.

The kiss didn’t last nearly as long as he would have liked. In the end it was his own stomach that interrupted them, which rumbled rather loudly.

"Time to eat, I think." Garak said with a warm smile and reluctantly let go of him.

Julian sighed. "Fine. I think we need to talk anyway," he said and sat down in front of his bowl.

"All in good time, my dear. I hope you agree that this is far too important to be discussed while eating." Garak said while he fussily took his own seat, not without brushing over the ground one more time, as if his clothes weren’t covered in dust already.

"Too important to be discussed...," Julian closed his eyes in bewilderment. "So, important things aren’t being discussed over food?" he asked

"Of course not." Garak replied as if that explained everything.

"Of course." Julian shook his head and put the topic down for further discussion at another time.

So instead they talked about other things while they were eating, like the work that needed to be redone after the storm, the status of Julian’s patients and how Garak planned to secure the now almost entirely collapsed Rojal Mansion. As usual Julian finished eating long before Garak and was on tenterhooks while he was forced to continue their light conversation with a degree of coherence and watching his dinner companion eat as if he had all the time in the world. Thankfully Garak didn’t seem to expect him to be on top of his game conversation wise, because his thoughts were running in ten directions at once.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Julian (really how could anyone eat that long on a single bowl of stew?), Garak put down his spoon and sat the bowl back on the ground.

"I have spent a good deal of thought on this," he began after a moment, "Unfortunately these are difficult times that don’t allow me to do this the way I would like. I can’t offer you much, not nearly as much as you have already given me, though I have been led to believe human’s place less importance on that than Cardassians would."

Julian had listened with increasing confusion. "Garak, what are you getting at."

His friend scooted closer. Gently he took Julian’s face in both his hands and pressed their foreheads together while his thumbs tenderly stroked the Doctor’s cheeks.

"This is where I would present you with a family heirloom, had I one left, where I would take my suit to your parents and close friends, and ask you to accept mine, if I had any left." he whispered, "As things stand all I have is myself and a sewing kit in a storage unit on DS9. Both are yours if you’ll have it, ss’avi."

Julian’s breath caught. Even if he hadn’t red about what Garak was describing countless times, the final term of endearment didn’t leave him any doubt. Ss’avi, ‘part of myself’, a term only used for someone you couldn’t imagine your life without.

Without a thought he pulled back and got up on his feet. "You’re proposing to me?" he asked incredulously. Garak stood up a little slower. He made no attempt to close the distance between them. His face had closed off the moment Julian had left his touch.

"Surely that can’t come as a surprise, my dear. I know it’s not the grand gesture you have every right to expect, but I thought given the circumstances..."

"That’s not the point Garak." Julian interrupted him. "And yes, of course I’m surprised. We’ve barely even kissed and now you’re proposing to me?"

"What did you expect I’d do when I asked you here?" Garak sounded genuinely surprised, although in Julian’s experience that didn’t have to mean much.

"I don’t know. Talk about how we conduct our relationship, how we deal with it in public..."

"And that’s exactly what I did."

"You asked me to marry you!"

"I know other species are more liberal in that regard," Garak said with an air of condescension that made Julian’s skin itch, "but Cardassians do not have ‘relationships’ the like you had with Lieutenant Dax or Leeta. Either you are serious or you are not. And in case you hadn’t noticed I am very serious about you." his eyes were glittering angrily now. Angrily and hurt.

"And I am about you. I just haven’t got this entire relationship planed out already. You want me to commit for the rest of my life before we even, ...", Bashir sputtered.

Garak rolled his eyes. "I really shouldn’t be surprised that it all comes down to that with you." he said venomously.

"That’s not what I meant!"

Julian rubbed his hand over his face, "Garak, this is a huge step. I can’t make a promise like that without knowing what I’m getting myself into."

"You’ve known me for eight years." Garak pointed out. "That’s more than most couples."

"But not like that! There’s a difference between living on the same station, or even the same ship and sharing your life with someone. What if I have some habit that drives you crazy? What if you snore? What if our plans for the future don’t align? What if in five years I realise I want to go back to earth?"

He broke off, a shocked look on his face. The sentence hung like led between them.

"Is that what you want?" Garak asked quietly.

Julian groaned and flopped down on the ground.

"Not right now," he said, "but I don’t know, maybe one day. Not necessarily earth, but just somewhere else."

"So you’re willing to sacrifice what you could have for certain for something you might one day want?" Garak remained standing, looming over him.

Bashir looked up. "There is no certainty, Garak." he said uncharacteristically flat. "If I’ve learned anything in the last five years it’s that. We can’t predict the future. At least I can’t."

"You can’t even predict yourself?" Garak asked a little more gently. Bashir shrugged.

"I wouldn’t have thought I’d be on Cardassia, a year ago. I mean, I thought about it, but I was with Erzi and the interim government was declining any offers of help from the Federation. It didn‘t seem possible." He sighed deeply.

"I want to say I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and I probably will, but the sad fact is that the longest relationship I ever had lasted ten months. And that was with Leeta, a woman I have never even claimed I loved. That’s probably why it lasted so long. Neither of us was actually expecting anything, because neither of us invested anything. With everybody else... even Erzi... You know, I always think this time that’ll be it. I thought that with Palis before, too. But it wasn’t. Neither time. So how can I make such a promise, Elim? I can’t know."

"You love me?" The question was quiet, almost awestruck.

Julian stood back up. It didn’t help conducting this conversation on different levels. "That’s what you got from that speech?" he asked dryly. "Of course I do. I have loved you for years, you infuriating man."

"You never said anything."

"Because the majority of that time, it would have been a tremendously stupid idea."

Garak conceded that with a tiny nod. "What about the rest?"

Julian stared at him for a moment incredulously, then huffed amused despite himself. "The rest of the time there was a war on, I was involved with other people, we were in different star systems. And I wasn’t sure what you wanted."

"And now?"

"Now? Now could work. There are no more damning secrets between us, as far as I’m aware anyway, we’re in the same place at the same time, there are no more politics against us, at least nothing insurmountable, and we’re finally talking about it. But that is now. I don’t know about tomorrow."

He took a tentative step towards the other man. "I want to be with you Garak. I do. I love you and I don’t want to think about my life without you in it either. But I can’t simply go from ‘friends with a bit of flirting’ to ‘married and committed to the rest of my life’ without any kind of transition phase. As far as I know Cardassians take marriage very serious, don’t you? You can’t expect me to make a decision of this magnitude at a moment’s notice. Two days ago this didn’t even seem a faint possibility."

"Of course I don’t expect you to make that decision right away." Garak seemed a little mollified. "Traditionally a person proposed to has up to one year time to consider the proposal."

"And you couldn’t have said so from the beginning?" Julian exclaimed.

"I hope you’ll forgive me, I was a little taken aback by your rather rude reaction to my proposal. Besides how was I supposed to know you were unfamiliar with that tradition. You seem to know so much else about Cardassian courting behaviour." Garak pointed out indignantly.

Julian threw himself at Garak, pulling him into a brutal kiss. He didn’t care that Garak couldn’t properly reciprocate, his need to feel him, to make Garak feel him, overrode such scruples. He needed to make the other man understand his frustration and love all at once; make sure there were no more misunderstandings for the moment.

When he was done, he tightly wrapped his arms around Garak, buried his face in his neck and muttered his frustration about the impossible, infuriating Cardassian as he held on to him. He needed a minute to calm down again and resolutely refused to let go of _his_ infuriating Cardassian in the meantime.

Finally he straightened up and took in Garak’s expression. "Right," he said, "now you’re going to sit me down and explain, in detail, exactly how we are conducting our relationship while I’m considering your proposal."


	18. Chapter 18

Garak felt slightly nauseous. Despite his outward calm he had been extremely nervous about his proposal and Julian’s initial reaction had confirmed all his worst fears. The emotional rollercoaster of the last minutes left him slightly rattled and even less sure about anything really. It seemed he could never be sure what to expect from the doctor. With something akin to dread he realised that their romantic relationship would require a lot more direct and honest communication than their friendship. He shuddered inwardly at the thought. But he was willing to compromise in this particular case.

"Well, that is largely up to you." he began. Julian, still holding on to him rather closely, kept looking at him expectantly. "Since I am the suitor, I have to adhere to your preferences in handling our relationship. Traditionally keeping it a secret would indicate that you are somehow uncomfortable with it and would hint at a higher likelihood that you will decline my proposal."

Julian nodded slowly. "I see. But what about you? Won’t it hurt your reputation, your standing in society, if it’s public knowledge that you’re dating an alien?"

Garak didn’t bother to hide his smile. How typical for his dear doctor to think of his reputation in this situation rather than his own preferences. "If you decide to accept my proposal it would have to become public knowledge anyway. And if not... well, let’s just say only the very uncouth people would make a mention of it to my face. It is possible that it could hurt my position as pur nim and any future political positions I might aspire to, but the same could be said about my past in the Order or in exile."

"So you want to be open about it?" Julian asked. Garak sighed. Directness was one thing but did he really need everything spelled out for him?

"I do but this is about what you want."

"Well, excuse me, but as far as I remember I’m not the one who is obsessively secretive in this relationship." the doctor said peevishly. Catching Garak’s look he rolled his eyes and relented, "Alright, alright. But you need to tell me what I am allowed to do to make it public, because all gestures you have told me about so far were not to be used in public." he pouted.

"Handholding is considered acceptable, although not strictly romantic as long as we don’t interlace our fingers. If you take my arm and let our shoulders touch that would be a clear signal. The same goes for putting arms around each other and increased body contact in general."

Julian nodded. He had probably seen that before.

"And of course," Garak added with a wicked little smile, "there are no Cardassian social norms concerning kissing, since it’s not something we normally tend to do."

Bashir smiled brightly at him. "Good," he said and pressed a soft kiss to Garak’s mouth. "We need to practice."

Garak would have been insulted by the implication, but he couldn’t help admitting that Julian was probably right. He didn’t find kissing, what little experience he had with the act, particularly exciting. Other than in humans, the lips where no erogenous zones on a Cardassian, but he knew Julian enjoyed it greatly and wanted to do what he could to make him happy.

"What about when we’re not in public?" Julian asked, his voice dropping low. "Anshwar I know now, but you said that was a purely non-erotic gesture. What about, whatever it is you do with your hands..." he broke of when Garak gently plucked his hand off his shoulder and slowly intertwined their fingers. Their palms glided over each other and a small shudder ran down Garak’s back at the delicious friction. Julian’s hands were slightly sweaty, and a little calloused from the unusual work he had done on Cardassia over the last few months, but they still were soft and the skin between his fingers was almost unbelievably tender.

The gesture seemed to affect the human as well, as he stopped talking, his mouth staying slightly opened as he stared at their joined hands.

"This is nice." he said after a moment. Then he gave Garak what could pass as a sly look. "What about going beyond that?"

Garak couldn’t help but teasing him a little. "Beyond that, my dear? I’m not sure how you mean." he said all false innocent. It worked instantly. Julian’s brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Damn it Garak, are we going to have sex or not?" he demanded almost petulantly.

Garak didn’t hide his grin, which only vexed Julian more, but he did answer:  
"If we were a man and a woman considering joining out lives, we would be expected to wait until we are married. Bastards are nearly considered as lowly as orphans in Cardassian society. But since there is no risk of that with same sex couples the rules are a little more liberal in a case like ours. However, ..." he hesitated in spite of himself. He hated himself for showing such weakness almost as much as for having such weakness, but he had promised himself to be open in this conversation and this was important for him, because he knew that if they slept together it would hurt him too much should Julian decide he didn’t want Garak after all.

"I understand that this is an important part of a relationship for you and you need to be sure we are.... compatible, before you make your choice, but I would ask you to wait until you are reasonably sure," Another cursed moment of hesitation before he ploughed on, "I don’t quite know how well my sanity would take the loss of such intimacy."

The last words had been hardly more than a whisper. Now Julian was looking at him with those big beautiful compassionate eyes that sometimes made Garak want to shrink and disappear rather than be scrutinized by them with such warmth.

A soft hand landed on his cheek and Julian nodded, never taking his eyes of Garak’s. "Alright," he said, "I asked that we take it slow, so we take it slow. I don’t want to break your heart. I don’t want to hurt you in any way if I can help it."

Garak kept staring into the doctor’s warm eyes for a long moment before he managed to nod, gratefully, yet still embarrassed by his own weakness. It should be Julian who dictated how fast they moved, when they did what, and making a request of him like this was demeaning in the extreme. At the same time he couldn’t help be relieved that Julian had agreed and seemingly understood his reluctance.

"Then there remains only one question for now," the doctor said quietly, "When I have made up my mind, how do I accept your proposal, or decline it, for that matter?"

Garak took a moment to find his way back to the more detached manner in which he usually explained cultural norms and customs to Bashir. "To let the year pass without any kind of signal is considered sufficient for a denial. If you wish to cut me loose sooner than that, well, you can always leave. Permanent absence, for more than three months without contact, is a clear sign. If you should wish to accept, all you do is call me what I called you when I proposed."

Julian thought for a split second. "Ss’avi?"

Garak nodded. "Using the term indicates you have no wish to ever be without me again."

As it turned out any further exploration of their relationship had to wait a few more days. When Ghletek arrived the next day, Julian left with him, accompanying four of his patients to be treated in one of the hospitals in the capital, which had better access to medication and equipment. Grenta had survived the first critical ta’, but his condition was still unstable and if he didn’t get the right treatment there was a good chance he would be paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Given the current conditions in Torr that was as good as a death sentence. The other three where not in immediately danger, but would certainly profit from the better conditions in a hospital. Julian accompanied the transport to make sure they received the right treatment when they arrived and remained stable during the journey.

It wasn’t as if Garak wasn’t more than busy himself, fixing the destruction caused by the storm. To his surprise most of the tarps protecting the water basins had held, but several had been loosened and torn to shreds and needed replacing before the majority of the water evaporated under the brutal beams of the sun. And then of course there was the damage to the buildings that still needed to be assessed and the debris that had been blown into the already cleared out basements on top of the preparations they had already planned before. There was a lot to do, so it wasn’t as if he would have spent a lot of time with the doctor anyway. He still couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

But Bashir did press a quick kiss to his lips before he boarded the transport, which had been observed by whole group of people and would therefore likely make its way around the district by sunrise. Now it was only a question of how many people knew the significance of the gesture. Garak wouldn’t think too many, but one in the right mood to divulge such information would be enough.

He had considered going along to the capital with Julian and his patients, but he really couldn’t excuse leaving Torr at the moment, especially since his next regular trip was already scheduled for next week. No, he would just have to be patient. Garak was good at being patient.

Patience didn’t keep him from analysing the events of the last two days though, and neither did it keep him from thinking about the possible futures. Julian had the dangerous habit of giving him hope.

Once during one of their literary debates on DS9 Julian had told him about an ancient earth myth about a box filled with what he called ‘all the evils in the world’. Down at the very bottom of the box never to be released there had been hope. According to the doctor the general interpretation was that hope was hidden at the very bottom so it wouldn’t come out with the rest, so human’s wouldn’t even have the comfort of hope, but Garak had always suspected that the Gods had considered hope the most dangerous gift of them all. In his experience, and he had plenty on that field, there were few things quite so destructive.

He understood Julian’s reluctance to immediately enter into a commitment as he had asked of him and the points he had made very entirely valid. Garak couldn’t claim to be an expert in romantic relationships either and had frankly no idea of the challenges that they might be facing. And that didn’t even entail the aspect that they were from fundamentally different cultures, resulting in fundamentally different views of the universe. Although they had learned a lot about each other over the years, the whole misunderstanding about the proposal was a good example of the fact that there were still quite prominent gabs in their knowledge and suggested that what human’s called ‘crossed wires’ would likely be a common occurrence in their relationship.

For example, other than the kiss, the doctor had not initiated any physical contact, beyond yut’amn, which they had already been doing, this morning and Garak was not at all sure if Julian had understood, that he, Garak, could only ever reciprocate any intimate gesture Julian had already extended to him. The basic idea that the person who had been proposed to dictated what was and what wasn’t permissible, so there were no unwanted liberties taken, seemed perfectly logical to Garak, but he knew enough not to expect the same of Julian. In spite of all his intelligence, he wasn’t the best at handling interpersonal interactions even within his own culture, as Garak was well aware. He considered explaining the concept again to his ss’avi, hopefully indicating subtly that he would welcome more physical contact at the same time.

At least Julian had immediately caught on to the significance of the endearment. It wasn’t the traditional address used in a proposal, since Cardassians didn’t automatically link enjoinment, sicus’te, with romance, the way humans tended to do, even though his literary studies indicated that that was a fairly recent development, not older than four hundred years. In truth, Garak had never considered himself to be someone to use the term at all, even if he had ever considered sicus’te at all (he hadn’t had much expectations for it, but it wouldn’t have been the most unexpected thing Tain had ever demanded of him). But none of the other more usual addresses had seemed suitable, too pragmatic, too detached for Julian and what he meant to Garak. And when he had said the word Garak had found, somewhat to his own surprise, that he had meant it. He had always thought that one had to be aware of one’s own personal truth in order to be a good liar. If you didn’t, how would you know what you needed to hide, and the risk of telling a lie that was just that much too revealing was high. So Garak recognised his personal truth when he spoke it and calling Julian a part of himself had been just that. He wondered how long that had been the case. Some of the things he had recently thought about indicated quite some time.


	19. Chapter 19

Julian used the three days in the capital to think through a few things. It was the first time he went without Garak and in fact the longest he had gone without seeing his friend since his arrival in Torr. Though he supposed Garak was no longer simply his friend now.

It was strange to think that after all these years they had finally taken this step. He had given up hope for more than Garak’s friendship a long time ago. No, that wasn’t entirely true. After the revelation Garak had never realised that Julian had indeed flirted back all those years he had had hope once again, only to have it crushed yet again when Garak, again, seemed to do nothing with that information. Until he had.

Julian had not seen it coming and more than that he had not expected a proposal one day after their first ever kiss. It was a bit of a strange feeling, considering normally he was the one who rushed into these things.

From Garak’s point of view it made a degree of sense. Cardassians didn’t do unlabeled ‘we’re together’ type of relationships. Family was everything, so any serious relationship needed to be officially recognised and codified to make two individuals part of each other’s family. Anything else was too casual to even be considered seriously. There was no doubt left in Julian’s, and apparently in Garak’s mind that they loved each other and anything other than a serious relationship wouldn’t do for either of them. In a Cardassian mind that logically led to a proposal of sicus’te, their equivalent of marriage.

Except sicus’te was not a marriage. By all accounts it was much more serious and much more binding than a human or Federation marriage. To Julian’s knowledge the only reasons to resolve such a bond were physical abuse, a child from an extramarital affaire and, of course, treason. Sicus’te also involved distinctly more responsibilities than a marriage. The partners were considered a unit, not only romantically, but also financially, politically, legally and within the larger family unit. In Garak’s case the latter was fortunately no longer an issue, but Julian still shuddered at the thought of having to defer to Enabran Tain as the head of the family. His own family was hardly any better. And none of that even touched at his own insecurities in regards to relationships.

It wasn’t even that he was still opposed to marriage in general as he had been. He could now admit to himself that a great part of that had been related to having to hide his enhancements and the knowledge that he would never be able to be completely honest and give a partner everything he was. That had changed now that he was no longer hiding and the idea didn’t seem quite as absurd anymore.

Starfleet of course was still an issue. He still felt that it was unfair to a partner, if Julian would continue to traverse the galaxy. It would be especially unfair to Garak who was finally home after all this time. Right now Julian was on Cardassia, true, and he could foresee that his help would be needed here for years to come, but it was still a finite assignment if he intended to remain in Starfleet. As things were Garak wouldn’t leave, and Julian might not be able to stay. Was it reasonable to promise himself under these circumstances? And what about Garak? He was not only home, but he had found a place in this community, something he had missed probably for even longer. He had the chance of building a life, even a career among his people but the fact was that Julian was only barely accepted by most of these people. Binding himself to an alien could cause Garak to loose his newfound footing on Cardassia and inhibit him if he should attempt to pursue a political career.

He pushed these thought aside. These were long term concerns and fortunately he didn’t have to make a decision right away. He noticed with a bit of surprise that, probably for the first time in his life, he was actually worried about going too fast in a relationship. Even with Erzi, when he thought he had taken his sweet time and thought it all through, the fact was that between them confessing their feeling for each other and their first night together there had been less than 48 hours. Of course there had been war and they could have died any moment. Now there was no immediate threat to his or Garak’s life and Julian found that for once he didn’t want to risk rushing things. He was in no hurry to return to DS9 and felt for the first time in a long while that he had time. He decided not to consider Garak’s proposal for at least six months and just see how their relationship progressed until then. That would mean they wouldn’t have sex for that amount of time but he understood Garak’s concerns and agreed with them to a point. Ezri would be proud of him.

When he returned to Torr, together with only one of his patients as the others were still being treated in the hospital, Garak greeted him at the transporter and kissed him welcome. They weren’t the only ones at the station. Kalek had come, as well as Oktar, Eltek and several others unloading the new supplies. Much more than were necessary. He could feel the eyes of practically everyone on them. A part of him suspected most of them had come to witness exactly this, his reunion with Garak. The entire district had probably had plenty of time to thoroughly discuss their goodbye by now. He reminded himself of what Garak had said about wanting to be open about their relationship and wrapped his arms around the other man just to eradicate any doubt. Garaks returned the hug enthusiastically.

"My, my, Doctor, how forward of you." he whispered into Julian’s ear.

"They came to see a show, didn’t they?" Julian whispered back. "And I wouldn’t want there to be any indication that I’m ashamed of you."

Garak squeezed his shoulders a little tighter. "Well, there can be no doubt that everyone in the district will know about us by sunrise now." He sounded deeply pleased about it.

Julian returned to the clinic where he sent Parmak to bed and discharged his patient. Kalek went through the patient reports of the last days with him, before being relieved by Lysal. They were still treating mostly injuries from the storm but Julian noted happily that things were slowly returning to normal again.

Of course Kalek couldn’t help himself in his curiosity. He lasted longer than Julian had expected, who had anticipated to be grilled the moment they set foot in the clinic. They made through half their current patients before the Cardassian couldn’t restrain himself any longer.

"Is it customary among humans to embrace their friends?" he asked with feigned innocence. Julian suppressed a smile. "It is in fact." he replied equally innocently, enjoying how Kalek’s eyeridges twitched in surprise.

"I didn’t know humans were such a tactile species. But of course you’re the only human I know."

Julian had to hide his face in the patient file he was currently perusing, for once glad they had to use the ridiculous, impractical large paper charts.

"I doubt human’s are much more tactile than Cardassians," he replied. "From my understanding in both cultures it strongly depends on who you’re touching and where."

Kalek tilted his head in a gesture that Julian had learned was very Cardassian. "Then you are aware in what the kind of relationship Cardassians use the kind of physical contact you and the pur nim have engaged in earlier?"

"One of the most important things we learn in Starfleet is to never apply our own cultural standards on other species." Julian said, being deliberately vague. He was getting better at conversing like a Cardassian he thought. He couldn’t tell if Kalek shared this opinion, but he nodded and accepted Julian’s answer.

"Cardassians don’t usually press their lips together, though," he pointed out, "I’m assuming that is a human gesture."

"It is." Julian confirmed, "It’s an expression of affection."

"Between friends?"

Julian grinned openly this time, taking it as a victory to have gotten a straight question out of Kalek. It wasn’t as big a victory as it would have been with Garak, but he took it were he could. "It can be," he admitted, "but usually not."

Kalek grinned widely at the admission. "So the rumours are true." he said with the deep satisfaction of a man who has just solved a tricky riddle.

"Well, I don’t know what the rumours are, so I can’t be sure," Julian qualified, "but probably yes."

"So you and pur nim Garak are sicus’vert." Kalek seemed please with that conclusion. Julian couldn’t suppress his smile anymore. It felt surprisingly good to actually tell someone, like that made it somehow official and it helped a lot that Kalek seemed to be genuinely happy for him and Garak. His eyes were sparkling with intrigue.

"Who proposed?" he asked eagerly.

"Garak did." Julian assumed it was alright to share that much information, even if it would likely be all over the district before sunrise.

Kalek nodded as if he had expected the answer. "And have you given an answer yet?"

"Not yet. There are still a few things I need to figure out for myself." Julian replied.

Kalek nodded again in agreement. "Sicus’te should be considered carefully. We Cardassians don’t tend to take such a promise lightly."

"Exactly. And I want to give it, I want to give Garak the consideration he deserves and not throw myself head first into anything." Julian confirmed.

The same afternoon Oktar came into the clinic to have a cut on her hand treated. She refused Tomila’s help and insisted on being seen to by Bashir himself. That certainly made her the first to ever do so but Julian didn’t make the mistake of thinking it had anything to do with his skills as a physician.

The cut was superficial but with the hygiene situation being what it was every small wound could become a risk. However, Julian suspected that she hadn’t come for that. Her story about how she had gotten the injury was plausible enough, but she had never struck him as someone overly fussy and Tomila could have easily cleared out the cut and sealed it and most Cardassians would have preferred her, even if more and more started to get used to Julian.

His suspicion was confirmed when Oktar stated apropos a nothing "Garak is a good pur nim." Julian looked up from her hand a little surprised. That was not exactly what he had expected. Trying to get information, confirmation, yes, he had even anticipated that she would attack him, given her own previous interest in Garak. Comments on Garak’s fitness for his post had not been on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

"He is." he agreed cautiously.

"Torr needs a good pur nim." she told him with a firm look. She took her hand back and thanked him for the treatment as if the previous conversation had never taken place.

Julian shook his head and put the incident out of his mind. He wasn’t overly familiar with Oktar but she had always struck him as a little odd, so he didn’t think anything of it.

At least not until Lysal made almost the exact same remark while they were stocking up the saniwipes in one of the treatment rooms.

"I’ve had six people today tell me you were a good pur nim and Torr was lucky to have you." Julian told Garak over dinner. The Cardassian raised an eyeridge but seemed utterly unsurprised. "That is very flattering." he said.

"Hmm," Bashir replied thoughtfully. "I’ve been wondering if this is the Cardassian version of the shovel talk."

"I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that expression, my dear."

Julian shrugged. "You know that ‘If you ever hurt him, I’ll come after you’-speech usually given by close friends and male family members to prospective suitors. It must have come up in some of the books we red."

Garak nodded understanding. "Ah yes. I believe it has. So am I to understand you think our fellow citizens have been subtly advising you not to break my heart?"

"Well, an alternative I’m considering is that they are worried I’ll persuade you run off with me."

Garak quirked an eyeridge. "It’s a legitimate concern, my dear. You are very persuasive."

Julian snorted. "Only for someone who doesn’t know you."

"What’s that supposed to mean."

"Garak," Julian took his lover’s face in his hands and brought their foreheads together, "I have no illusions that you’ll want to leave Cardassia ever again, unless you’re presence here would lead to the final destruction of the planet. And I would never ask you to. This is where you belong. Where you always wanted to be." he pressed a kiss to his partner’s lips only pulling back when he realised that Garak had stiffened. "What is it, Garak?"

"But it isn’t were you belong," Garak said slowly Julian immediately grasped what he was aiming for.

"Right now it is. And that won’t change in a hurry. Cardassia will need doctors for years to come. I can keep this posting for a long time if I want to."

"Unless Starfleet decides you’re of better use somewhere else. No Julian," Garak waved of Bashir’s reply, "if you got orders tomorrow to transfer to the other end of the quadrant I wouldn’t stop you anymore from going than you would ask me to follow you."

"They won’t transfer me tomorrow."

"But they will one day. And what then?"

"I don’t know,” Julian squirmed. It was disconcerting enough to consider these things, but have Garak voice them back at him set a led weight into his stomach. “I’ve decided not to think about that right now. I need to see if we work as a couple at all, before I decide about anything further. I need to know that this can last and that neither of us will decide we’re incompatible after a few months." he explained.

"That’s highly unlikely, my dear."

"I know it is, but highly unlikely doesn’t equal impossible as we both know."

That didn’t seem to assure Garak though. He remained sitting stiffly and eating his dinner in silence. Julian wished he could say something to comfort him, but the truth was, that Garak’s concerns mirrored his own too much for him to have any answers at this point. He didn’t know if he truly wanted to stay on this hot and often hostile planet. He loved being with Garak and he enjoyed being able to help where he was truly needed, but he wasn’t green enough to romanticise his job here anymore, like he had when he had first come to DS9. Life on Cardassia was hard and would likely remain so for years to come and it would take even longer until the people would be accepting of him and his kind, no matter how much help he offered. Right now he was happy to stay and put up with all of this, but that was all he could say at the moment.

"Of course I will eventually be called back. I’ve never denied that," he said, "But that could be years from now. Who knows what will be by then? We can’t predict the future Garak. If you had asked me ten years ago, hell, five years ago where I would be today, Cardassia would have literally the last place in the galaxy I would have named. But I’m here. I don’t know what will be in a year or two or ten. Yes, eventually Starfleet will call me back, but who knows when that will happen. Maybe then I’ll be ready to not be an officer anymore. Maybe we won’t be together anymore. Maybe there’s a civil war and we have to flee Cardassia. The point is I won’t build my life on maybes. And I don’t really have the patience to deal with any of them until they happen. Right now I love you and I want to be with you right here. And right now I would love it if that would last forever. I’m just not brave or naive enough anymore to assume that it will. So right now I’m going to take my time, as you have said I could, because you’re right, it’s a big commitment for all those reasons and I want to be as sure as humanly possible. I owe you that much. So when I say yes, you’ll know that I have considered all the implications and that I mean it. And for me to know that I did and that I’ll never make you regret asking me to stay. Okay?"

Garak still didn’t seem convinced, but at least he appeared slightly more confident. "You are right of course, my dear. You do well to be careful in your considerations; I’m not blaming you for that. And I should trust that you consider all sides of the issue, forgive me."

Julian hid his smile behind his bowl. He knew all too well, that Garak, too, had a few issues to deal with in this relationship, trusting Julian being only one of them. But getting a straight out apology out of him was a step that gave him hope that maybe they could both learn and grow into this relationship together.

"Always." he promised, which garnered him an indulgent headshake from the Cardassian.

It turned out he wasn’t done talking to people about being sicus’vert. Parmak was the next who pulled him aside when he returned to the clinic for his next shift.

He was a little surprised by that. Neither he, nor Garak were particularly close with Parmak. In Garak’s case he got a feeling the two had much more history than they let on and while there was certainly a good deal of mutual respect, there was clearly also a healthy amount of distrust from both sides that neither of them admitted to. They were always overly cordial with each other, like to very big men in a very small room. Julian had also noticed that they were both very careful never to be alone together. There had to be witnesses to all their interactions.

For himself he simply hadn’t spent enough time with Parmak to be able to call him more than an acquaintance. They usually worked opposite shifts and even if their shifts overlapped they were usually busy. Parmak was doubtlessly a very good doctor and Julian was grateful that he put up with him, without any hint of resentment over his species, sex or the fact that he had to leave the prisok’pey shift to him and that Julian ran off into to the capital every month or so for three days. Between them the clinic functioned well and their professional interactions where pleasant. But other than that and the odd conversation over dinner, they had very little contact.

So when Parmak asked to speak with him first thing into his shift Julian naturally assumed it would be about a patient, or that the other doctor had finally decided to take Julian up on his offer to take a few days off himself. He was thoroughly surprised when Parmak started to talk about Garak.

"I heard a rumor that pur nim Garak has proposed sicus’te to you."

From his tone it was impossible to discern what he thought of that.

"A year ago I would never have believed how fond Cardassians are of gossip." Julian replied as lightly as he could.

Parmak tilted his head lightly. "We don’t have much other entertainment these days," he admitted, "But we have yet to revert to inventing rumors to my knowledge."

"I guess it hasn’t been necessary yet." Julian acknowledged.

The Cardassian nodded. "You are considering this proposal?" It was an almost outrageously direct question, highly atypical for the overly polite Doctor. Julian tried not to let his shock over this show.

"I’ve been informed I have a year to make my decision." he replied carefully.

Parmak nodded. "That is true. I would recommend you make good use of it. You should be very certain that this is what you want."

Julian wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. It could be another way of telling him he shouldn’t break Garak’s heart, or it could be a warning of a different kind altogether.

"I have been told by several people already that Garak is a good pur nim." he offered as reply.

"Oh he is," Parmak sounded almost dismissive, "there can be no doubt about that. He is always good at whatever he does. But so are you and you are a good man, too."

"It sounds like you’re implying Garak is not." Julian tried not to sound defensive, but he felt his hackles rise. Garak didn’t need him to protect him, but a part of him felt compelled to none the less.

"I’m merely suggesting that you make sure you know who it is you consider binding yourself to." the Cardassian said placidly.

"I know of his past in the Order, it’s a matter of public record." Julian replied.

Parmak’s eyes widened in surprise. "I had not expected you to have any knowledge of that, forgive me," he said. "However, knowing something is not the same as understanding it."

Julian frowned at the very Cardassian answer. What would Parmak think he knew about Garak that he couldn’t? Or why would he think Julian couldn’t understand what being in the Obsidian Order meant? Suddenly something clicked into place and he saw what he had been missing all along.

"You have a criminal record for political crimes. Which translates to the Obsidian Order had a problem with you and had you locked up. So you know exactly what they did to people." he realised.

Parmak looked very uncomfortable, but did nothing to deny this. "I would not wish for anyone to find themselves at the opposite side of an interrogation table from any operative of the Order, but least of all Tain’s protégé." was all he said.

Julian nodded. "I understand." Now it all made sense, the warning, the odd behaviour around each other, all of it. "Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it,” He said politely, yet genuinely. “You may be right, I don’t know who Garak was back then and I hope I’ll never find out to be honest. But I do know who he is now."

Parmak didn’t look convinced but he bowed his head in polite acquiescence. "It is your decision," he said, even though he still sounded doubtful. "I can rest in the knowledge that I have done my duty by you. I will not bother you further."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The EKD has the word sicus’te for being married/enjoined, but no term for a courting couple (because this phase exists only in my fic), so I came up with sicus’vert, which includes the word 'vert', meaning choice, for the state where a proposal has been made but not yet accepted. It’s supposed to express the fact that two people are in a relationship but emphasise the part where things aren’t decided yet.   
> I’m not sure if the two big men in a small room is a common expression in English or if I stole that from Terry Pratchett. I mean, I’m definitely sure about the latter.


	20. Chapter 20

Garak was looking forward to meeting the doctor for lunch. The previous night Julian had introduced a new aspect to kissing by involving his tongue. It was a novelty Garak appreciated immensely. Other then the lips, the Cardassian tongue was highly sensitive and was often employed in an erotic context. Garak was looking forward to exploring this new territory some more, even though he still got confused since Julian insisted it wasn’t a purely erotic variation. "Though I probably wouldn’t kiss my mother like this." he had admitted, leaving Garak thoroughly befuddled. Humans it seemed simply couldn’t make up their minds. It was a miracle they procreated at all considering how needlessly complicated and vague their courting practices were. He had said as much, resulting in an exhilarating argument that, in combination with the new tongue kiss, had Garak seriously contemplating whether he couldn’t just drag Julian to his bed once and for all, and to the pah-wraiths with courting rules. Of course he hadn’t in the end, but he had returned to his little room with a wildly beating heart and had fallen asleep with a smile on his face that had still been there when he woke up.

But where was the doctor? He scanned the square and came to the unpleasant conclusion that Julian was no where to be found. Maybe he had gotten delayed by a patient. He was doing the rounds this morning, wasn’t he? Garak hesitated a moment but then headed into the clinic just to make sure nothing had happened.

Ten minutes later he left the clinic with no trace of a smile left in his face. He met with Eltek and Oktar, and immediately sent them to organise a party to check on the water basins with him.

It appeared that over the last three days there had been a dramatic increase in some kind of gastrointestinal illness. Only few people had reported to the clinic so far, but last night one man had died, leading to Julian discovering that almost everyone in the building he had lived in was infected, suffering from increasingly severe cramps, diarrhea, fever and dehydration. The entire clinic staff had spend all morning doing their best for the thirty-six patients in that house but it looked like there were two more who might not see the next yan.

Julian was adamant the illness had to be due to a tainted water supply and Parmak seemed prone to agree. Since the government issued rations were fresh from the replicator and hermetically sealed until needed they were unlikely to be the culprit, which left the reservoirs. The only solution was to examine all the basins and praying that the doctors were wrong.

They started with the ones currently used for the district‘s drinking water. It only took a few minutes before there were shouts calling Garak to the basin in question.

Garak muttered a curse as soon as he got close enough to see. All the basins were always to be covered with tarp, mainly to keep the water from evaporating during the ta’ heat, but also to keep any wildlife that should have found its way here from contaminating it. This was apparently exactly what had happened though. He could see the hole in the tarp even from a distance.

A closer examination and removal of the tarp revealed the problem. A vole had gnawed its way through the fabric to get to the precious water. This late in the year the water level was already quite low, much lower than Garak would have liked in fact, so the animal hadn’t been able to reach the water without either falling or jumping into the reservoir. Once in, it hadn’t been able to scale the walls anymore and had ironically and miserably drowned, the decomposing body now tainting the water. The people getting drinking water from that basin had either not noticed the hole in the tarp or, failing to understand its significance, not cared. Their basic water filters, mostly put together from scrap metal, where of course not enough to completely decontaminate the water and so now half the district might be poisoned. Garak sighed deeply.

They left the tarp off the tainted basin. Now that the water was useless to them it might as well evaporate and contribute to the next rain. Garak instructed his helpers to inform everyone not to get anymore water from this particular reservoir and impress on people to report to the clinic immediately if they showed any symptoms. There wasn’t much more he could do at this stage, except put his faith in Julian and Parmak to keep the people of the district alive.

When he returned to the clinic the immediate rush of treating the outbreak had cooled down and Julian was busy treating a middle aged woman with violent coughing fits, while simultaneously teaching Tomila.

"What are you giving her, how much and what for?" he demanded.

The young woman nodded eagerly. ".7mgl mesolatriactepan to help her lung absorb more oxigen and .2mgl desocamylin for..." she faltered and frowned in concentration but seemed to come up empty.

"To limit tissue damage from the dust." Julian told her mildly.

Tomila winced but nodded. Garak concluded that the patient suffered from a dust lung, an unfortunately common ailment these days. Most Cardassians had breathed in more dust than was healthy in the last year and a half, but it regularly got worse during the storm season. Once the rain came it would get better again, but it was still months until then.

"And what would we do if we were in a proper hospital with a proper energy supply and equipment?" Doctor Bashir questioned his student further.

"We would use a microtransporter to remove the dust particles from her lunges and then a tissue regenerator to heal the damage." Tomila replied eagerly. Julian nodded.

"Unfortunately we’re not there yet, Ma’am," he addressed his patient, "so in the meantime we will do what we can to make breathing easier for you and keep your lungs functioning until we have the necessary equipment." he smiled encouragingly. "The medication will help but you really need to wear your mask at all times and you need to regularly clean it out, understood? Otherwise it will only get worse and worse."

Garak didn’t miss how the woman’s eyes quickly flickered to Tomila, who did her best to imitate Julian’s encouraging bedside smile, before she nodded. He was sure neither did Julian but the doctor’s smile didn’t waver. He gently took the woman’s wrist to administer the hypospray with admirable equanimity.

The woman nodded referentially to Garak as she passed him, just before putting on her breathing mask again and leaving the clinic as fast as she could.

"Ah, Garak," Julian pretended to notice him only now, even though Garak knew he had picked up on his presence the moment he had stepped into the room. Human hearing was better than Cardassian and Julian’s was better than human, after all.

"My dear," Garak greeted him, allowing himself the endearment since Tomila was the only other person in the room. "I’m afraid you were right about the water. Basin 24 has indeed been tainted by a dead vole. I’ve given instructions to not use the water in that basin any longer but I’m afraid in many cases the damage is already done."

Julian nodded as if he had expected nothing less. He probably hadn’t. "I‘ll need to go out there and test the water, to see what kind of contamination we’re dealing with." he declared. "That way we can determined what kind of illnesses we have to expect and how we can treat them." he explained to Tomila.

Garak smiled. "It’s good to see you’ve taken so well to your teaching role, my dear." he said genuinely. Julian rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"We’re going to have to apply for more specialised medication once we know what exactly we’re dealing with." he said. "And could you pull a few strings to get us those fungicides we’ve been asking about for months the next time we’re in town?"

"My dear, you seem to believe I hold any strings to pull." Garak deflected more out of habit. Julian gave him one of those fondly exasperated looks that always evoked the urge to be a little naughty in Garak.

"I really don’t care if you pull stings or beg for favours. But that fungus is spreading. We’ve had several patients where it had settled in their lungs. Not dangerous in on itself as far as I can tell but the dust is already putting a lot of strain on people’s lungs. We need to be careful or this could very quickly become a serious problem." Julian explained patiently.   
"I’ll do what I can my dear, but I can’t make promises." Garak acquiesced.

Secretly he decided to put a bit of pressure onto one or two counsel members he knew. It really was true they had been given the run around with those drugs for far too long. And he would have to put in a request for proper water filters while he was at it. He didn’t think he would be successful with that one since the district received filtered water as part of its rations, like any other district, but he had to try. Julian was right they needed to stop loosing people to avoidable illnesses.

Julian decided to go and take those scans immediately while there was a lull in the clinic. He took Tomila with him and left Kalek to ‘hold down the fort’ as he put it. Garak noticed that the nurse had seemingly gotten used to the colorful human idioms Bashir employed in Kardassi with no regard to how ridiculous they sounded in that language.

Garak returned to his own work, which now included a recalculating of the allotted water rations, given they were now several pUndt shorter than they had previously expected. Eltek had returned from informing the citizens of the poisoned basin. Apparently a good deal of his work had been to calm down Oktar’s cooks who had used the water from that basin for the last three meals.

Garak frowned at those news, even when Eltek assured him that the stews had all cooked properly. He only hoped the older man was right and that had rendered the bacteria harmless, otherwise the entire district might fall prey to them. He made a mental note to ask Julian about it once he had the chance. Right now he had his hands full.

They headed to the storage buildings about an hour later, when Garak noticed that Eltek was struggling. The older man was significantly paler than normal, and his breathing was heavy. Most of it was well covered up by the breathing mask, but Garak’s training had prepared him to noticed weaknesses specifically and once his suspicion was roused he saw several other signs that Eltek was putting on a brave face to hide significant discomfort. Then he noticed the faint moist sheen on the other man’s scales. This was a bad sign. Cardassians didn’t sweat (a fact for which Garak was profoundly grateful whenever he saw Bashir struggling with the dusty grime covering his neck after dinner), so whenever their body did exude liquid it was usually an attempt to expel some form of toxin.

"You are unwell." Garak stated.

"I’m fine, just a bit thirsty." Eltek demurred.

"You spend half the afternoon telling people to go to the clinic if they had symptoms. You should listen to your own advice." Garak tried to sound amused rather than worried.

"I’m fine." the older man insisted stubbornly.

Garak felt a twinge of annoyance at the obvious lie. Julian would probably tell him it served him right, being reluctant to give himself over to medical care himself. He tried to tell himself it was because he couldn’t abide a bad liar, but couldn’t really convince himself. It made it difficult to be brusque with Eltek though.

"Very well," he said amicably, "but we have to stop over at the clinic at any case. I need to ask Doctor Bashir what the result of his analysis of the water has yielded and if there is anything we can do to curb this as much as possible." With that he headed towards the clinic pretending not to care if the other man followed him or not. He knew the very same trick had not worked on him and had in fact served only to anger him when Julian had tried it that time his implant had malfunctioned. But then Garak had thought himself to be a unique case and beyond any help, whereas Eltek suffered from an illness that affected many at the moment. Besides, Eltek was much less stupidly proud than him.

Still, he was somewhat relieved when he could hear Eltek muttering behind him but following and he entered the clinic right behind Garak.

The picture that presented itself to the two was dramatically different than it had been just over an hour ago. Then things had seemed more or less under control. Now there was chaos. There where at least five people waiting, looking just as bad as Eltek, two of them children, a stain in a corner spread the pungent smell of vomit through the room and just as they entered, Kalek rushed out of one of the treatment rooms, pulling a shaking Tomila behind him. When he saw Garak he instantly changed trajectory and headed towards him. As he approached he assessed Eltek with a professional eye.

"Trade you." he said, pushing the girl towards Garak and reached for Eltek with his other hand, "Get her calmed down and get me some volunteers. Anyone who isn‘t squeamish, can mop the floor and hold a bucket." he ordered as politely as the situation allowed him before he unceremoniously turned on his heel, pushed Eltek towards the waiting seats and waved a man near the counter to follow him into one of the examination rooms. Garak had barely time to nod. He took Tomila by the elbow and pulled her out the door, glad to escape the stench himself.

He was a little surprised that after everything they had gone through over the last months it should be this relatively simple sickness that brought the girl to her breaking point. She hadn’t blinked an eye at the several severe injuries after the first storm and had, according to both doctors not shown any weakness at the face of several overlong shifts in the wake of that disaster. But now all it apparently took was a group of people heaving their bowels out to reduce her to a shivering and sobbing pile hanging limply at Garak‘s hand.

But he didn’t have time to deal with the girl at the moment. He sat her down on the steps and headed out to find people who were in the condition to be helpful.

It came as a great advantage that Torr district was at this point largely inhabited by servants, therefore people who were used to cleaning up other peoples messes with efficient detachment, no matter what said messes looked or smelled like. It only took Garak a few minutes to gather five or six people and bring them to the clinic, armed with rags, brushes and buckets. For the moment they wouldn’t spend any precious cleaning agents or disinfectants on the issue. As far as Garak had understood it was mostly about making patients and medics as comfortable as possible and avoid large puddles on the floor.

This time it was Bashir himself who received them in the anteroom. He looked fraught and serious and pulled Garak aside as soon as he had directed the helpers to where they were needed.

"We need water." he said without preamble. Garak let his eyes widen inquiringly. To him it seemed like water had been the source of this entire disaster.

"The patients are sweating and vomiting, both which leads to a significant loss of hydration," Bashir explained. "I’m still trying to come up with a treatment to counteract the toxin but right now all we can do is treat the symptoms and make sure people don’t die from them. That means provide re-hydration. We get 18 pUndt of blood substituting liquid per supply delivery, but we already used five of them for several cases of dehydration and overexposure over the last week and nearly half of the rest for the first wave this morning. Now we have eighteen patients who we need to keep hydrated. It’s not enough. The only alternative I see is to give them water. Clean water."

"From the rations." Garak concluded. The water in the rations was replicated and sealed, it was near impossible that it was tainted in any way. The doctor nodded. "How much do you need?"

Bashir frowned but didn’t hesitate, which meant either it was impossible to estimate or he had done the calculation previously. At this point Garak considered either possibility equally likely.

"Difficult to say as long as there are new patients coming in. Water drunk is less effective than liquid administered intravenously, especially since we have to expect the majority will be expelled again almost immediately. All that you can spare, really."

Garak resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Technically they couldn’t spare any water rations, especially now that they were down an entire basin.

"How much water do we need for every citizen to survive until the next delivery?" he asked. He knew the rations were already calculated tightly so he didn’t think there would be much to spare, but it wouldn’t do to save ten people now only to then loose twenty over the next week. Bashir nodded understandingly. This time he did hesitated for a second.

"We need to keep a total of at least 3781 pUndt of water in some form." he said then. "But you should test the other basins. It makes no sense that all these people would have been drinking from only the one."

That, too, was a very good, and very worrying, point. If they had the basins they could last longer, even if they spend more than the six rations Bashir had calculated they had to spare, and maybe he could negotiate a larger allotment next time as compensation. But if more basins were tainted they could be in real trouble.

Bashir seemed to read the worry of his face, for he placed his hand gently on Garak’s upper arm. "Whatever we can spare." he repeated.

Garak smoothed his face and forced his shoulder to relax. He doubted anyone who didn’t know him as well as Bashir did could read his concern, but it never hurt to be careful. "I’ll speak with Oktar," he said, "And I might have to borrow a tricorder for those tests.”

The Doctor nodded and handed him the device without hesitation. His personal one, Garak noticed. One of only two Torr had and one of the few pieces of technology that was kept working. Both Bashir and Parmak insisted it was the single most important tool in their arsenal, given they didn’t have any more advanced medical scanners. He nodded his thanks and headed out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pUndt is a measuring unit for liquid from the EKD of undefined quantity. I’ve defined it as about 1.2 litres.


	21. Chapter 21

By the time Garak returned the tricorder, Julian was ready to despair. Oktar had brought seventeen water rations, but since the number of patients had increased by another five it was hardly a drop in a bucket. Kalek and their six volunteers kept their patients as comfortable as possible, but there wasn’t much that they could do except holding buckets and keep them hydrated as well as possible. Julian still tried to find a way to fight the toxin, ideally a medication he had or could synthesise from what they had. For the nth time this afternoon he cursed that he didn’t have a computer, database or even a proper medical scanner. He had the distinct suspicion that this illness was not only known on Cardassia, but also that there was likely an existing medication. Parmak had uttered the same conviction before he had gone to sleep, before the second wave of patients had come in. They had determined that the source of the illness was a bacteria: Unfortunately even the well trained Cardassian memory of Kelas Parmak did not entail a full database of diseases that had not been an issue to the general population in centuries, the same way no one could have expected Julian to know the treatment for cholera off the top of his head.

The good news was that they did have three different types of antibiotics in stock, but of course, not enough to be able to afford any failed attempts. Besides Julian was reluctant to administer that kind of medication without being certain it would actually work. So he was currently running experiments in petri dishes. He felt vaguely like he was stuck in an historic holonovel

To see Garak come back, not only with his tricorder, but also with Tomila in tow, both of them carrying more water rations, was a sight for his sore eyes. Had he not been wary of the state of his uniform, after being surrounded by sick patients all day, he would have hugged the other man tightly. As it was he only pressed a quick but emphatic kiss to his cheek. Tomila went to store the water away. She seemed to have recovered from her earlier breakdown but the look on her face told him that she was both deeply ashamed of it and not entirely unaffected, now that she was back at the clinic. He hoped she could go on; they needed the help.

He didn’t begrudge the young woman her moment of weakness. Every medical student or young doctor had one or two during their training in his experience. It was a stressful and very demanding job, especially while you were still getting used to it. In truth he had expected it much earlier. Had she broken down during the treatment of the people injured in the season’s first big storm, he would not have been surprised. But you could never predict those things. One of his fellow students in the Academy had had her big breakdown over a patient with an anaphylactic shock. Julian had seen her assist in an operation on third degree plasma burns and one were an engineering student had all but cut of his own leg with a laser saw, just the week before without so much as a twitch. You could never predict it. If Tomila was serious about becoming a doctor she would get over it and be stronger for it. If not the job wasn’t for her.

He turned back to Garak and kissed him again, just because he could and after the day he had had so far he felt he deserved it.

"My dear." the Cardassian said slightly admonishingly, but Julian could hear the warmth in the words.

"Thank you for the water." he said, as if the kiss had been for that.

"Well, it seems we can afford it," Garak replied, “According to your tricorder all other basins are drinkable.”

Julian frowned. "But that doesn’t make any sense. The people this morning all drank from the tainted basin, we know that, but they all lived in the same house. The ones we have in now come from three different areas of the district."

Garak nodded gravely. "That is the bad news." he agreed, "But don’t worry doctor I intend to solve this little mystery as quickly as possible." he looked grim.

"You should keep the tricorder then," Julian pointed out, "You might need it to determine if there is any other source of the bacteria."

"Thank you, dear, but first I would like to ascertain where all these people did get their water from. Having two independent sources of the same illness at the same time seems to me a rather big coincidence. And you know how I feel about coincidences."

"You don’t trust them." Julian replied. "So you think someone could have done this on purpose?" The thought shocked Julian a little. Why would anyone want to poison innocent people, seemingly at random? Fellow Cardassians at that. Unless...

"Do you think it could be something left over from the Dominion?" He had heard about hidden containers of genetically engineered viruses that the Dominion was said to have left behind. He hadn’t given much about these rumours given that there hadn’t been any vicious outbreaks of anything so far to his knowledge, but now he couldn’t help wonder.

"That, too, would be highly coincidental," Garak replied, "but we can’t rule it out entirely at this point either I’m afraid. In any case I have every intention of finding out." A determined look had settled on the Cardassian’s face. "Please let me or Oktar know if you need anything else." He hesitated a moment and then pressed a quick kiss to Julian’s cheek. "If you’ll excuse me my dear, I have to talk to a few people."

Julian let him go. He could only hope that Garak wouldn’t find any other source of the contamination. It was difficult enough to determine a medication as it was, contradicting information would only complicate the process further. But at least they had more water now and the majority of their supply wasn’t tainted. He reviewed the data from the tricorder once again himself and compared them with the ones he had taken with the clinic’s tricorder. Then he returned to check on his petri dishes. Thankfully they started to slowly show some progress.

Another four hours of hand holding and emptying buckets later, he finally had the results. Even better, the antibiotic he needed was one they had in stock and they had enough of it to treat all current patients. It was just in time as far as he was concerned; the condition of some of the elder patients and especially the children had become more than worrying at this stage. A little boy he knew from his monthly school check ups, had become critical half an hour before, his little body shaking with violent fever and fighting severe dehydration.

Julian was almost painfully relieved when he could press a hypospray to the child’s neck, but didn’t stick around to observe the progress but hastened to the next bed and the next. It would take some time for the medication to show results and he couldn’t afford not to threat people in the meantime. Once he had given the shot to every one of his patients, however, he returned to the boy to check his readings.

The fever had receded by less than one degree, but it was still improvement. Kalek was trying to get him to drink some more which would also help his condition if they were able to keep it down this time. When the boy hadn’t thrown up twenty minutes later and the fever had gone down another half degree the two medical professionals allowed themselves to exchange a small relieved smile.

Other patients improved as well, the sound of retching and groaning slowly became less and less. Two hours after Julian had administered the first dosage they felt safe enough to send their helpers out with deeply felt thanks.

Garak hadn’t returned by the time dinner rolled around, but Julian assumed he had gotten caught up in his investigation. He had no doubt that someone had told him about the treatment and that the worst was in hand now. So instead of Garak he looked for Tomila once he had his usual bowl of stew in hand.

He found her sitting on the stairs up to one of the housing buildings. He wondered if this was where she lived. Somehow he had never asked, probably because none of them had anything that could be considered a home at the moment. At least nothing he would consider a home just a place to lay his head but otherwise spend as little time there as possible. Any time off he had, which wasn’t much at all, he spend at the clinic and the clinic square, or in the little courtyard that he had come to think of as his and Garak’s. He had never wondered where other people got off to. He knew Tomila had friends so he had simply assumed she spend her free time with them. She was hardly more than a girl after all.

After a polite inquiry she allowed him, a little awkwardly, to seat himself beside her, but she didn’t look at him. He took a few bites in silence before he asked "Are you alright?"

She flinched violently, but nodded quietly, still avoiding his eyes. They continued to eat in silence.

"I’m sorry." she said after a while. Her voice was small.

He just nodded, to signal he accepted her apology. "It’s alright."

She shook her head violently. "I behaved shamefully. I was weak and I abandoned you when you needed my assistance. I just..." She took a deep breath, sounding pained at the next sentence. "I understand if you’d prefer someone else to help you in the future."

Julian looked at her and waited for her eyes to meet his. "I said it’s alright. You were overwhelmed for a moment and you didn’t know how to handle it. It happens to every one once or twice, sometimes even to fully trained doctors. You apologised and I accepted your apology. It’s alright." He tried to impress on her. He remembered that feeling all to well, the shame of having fallen apart at something that seemed so miniscule to everyone else, the feeling of weakness, of failure. "If you don’t want to do this anymore I understand, I won’t force you, but if you do I’d be happy to have you continue working at the clinic."

She looked at him with wide eyes. "No! I mean, of course, I want to continue. I can help. I’m so useless everywhere else, but with you I can help. I can do my part for the district."

Julian had to suppress a smile. Any human, or Federation member, would have said that they loved the work, but of course a Cardassian loved the fact that they were being useful to their state. Their unyielding patriotism in everything they did was something that still surprised Julian. Ironically it sometimes reminded him of the way he had felt about the Bajoran faith: something he could accept, even envy or admire sometimes, but never fully comprehend or feel. He considered himself a loyal citizen of the Federation, he had taken an oath to uphold its values and defend its citizens and he had become a doctor out of the deeply ingrained wish to help people. But the two of them existed as separate entities in him. He would without a second thought help anyone, no matter their home world or political loyalty and even though he had mostly expected to be helping Federation citizens when he had become a Doctor, the political aspect had never played a role in this. Starfleet had, to a degree, and he was still convinced of the values the Federation and Starfleet represented to him, but their people didn’t take priority over everyone else in the galaxy. He was aware not everyone in Starfleet or the Federation felt the same way as him. Even during the war he had been willing to cure the founders and researched to liberate the Jem’Hadar, which had gotten him no small amount of reprobation even from his friends, and him curing the founders of their artificial disease had only been accepted because it had eventually led to a peace treaty. But Julian had always fought them because they were the aggressors, threatening to eradicate and subjugate his people, not out of a sense of superiority or partisanship of them and us as certainly some of his compatriots had by the end of the war. It was why he had never had a problem coming to Cardassia even though they had been the enemy for such a long time. He could hate individuals, Dukat and Tain certainly qualified for that, but not an entire people. To him that was just what the Cardassians were, just like any other species in the quadrant and beyond: Just people. And as people the values he associated with his own culture demanded that he helped them when they needed it.

But of course Cardassians saw things a little different.

"I’d be happy to have you continue at the clinic." he repeated genuinely.

Tomila still didn’t seem entirely convinced. "You don’t think I’m too weak?" she asked hesitantly, "It was just... So many people and they were dying and we couldn’t do anything to help them. All the other times there were things we could do, you always knew how to treat them, even if we couldn’t save them, we tried. But today there was nothing we could do, it was just so..."

He nodded understandingly. "You were overwhelmed. Like I said, it happens to everyone now and then. If you ask Parmak, I’m sure he’ll tell you the same thing. And you came back. You recovered and came back, the same day. That was more than I could do my first time."

She looked doubtful. "You don’t expect me to believe you ever ran away from a group of sick people?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not sick people. Domestic abuse. My first case," he said. "We had a child come in with a broken arm, maybe ten years old. His mother claimed he climbed a tree and fallen. But he never spoke, never looked up, he just sat there, as if he was trying to disappear. When we scanned him we found other injuries, older ones that couldn’t have come from the fall. Bruises, a cracked rib that had healed badly, cuts and burns that had been treated with a dermal generator by someone who didn’t know what they were doing, things like that. Just then the kid’s father came in. The boy went completely rigid, still as a statue. I had never seen anyone so terrified in all my life. And I couldn’t move. Me and the child we both looked at the man like voles in front of a regnar. My hands were shaking so much I dropped the tricorder. My supervisor had to send me out of the room. She came back later for me, when the family had left, told me she had informed social services. Then she told me to go home. My legs still barely carried me at that point. I got very, very drunk that night," he smiled ruefully, "and the next day I had this exact conversation with my supervisor."

The girl had listened attentively, not taking her eyes of him for a second. "What happened the next time?" she asked.

Julian suppressed a grin, both from the memory but also, because he was impressed with her. Unfailingly she had put her finger on the critical point. How she handled herself the next time she felt like this was how she would see if she could do this job.

"The next time I didn’t freeze," he told her, "instead I got furious. I was so angry I kicked the mother, it was the mother that time, out of the examination room and nearly called security on her. Then I waited with the child until the uhm, counsellor arrived." Only half way through did he realise he didn’t know the Kardassi word for social worker. He would have to ask Garak, but something in him doubted there was a word. Cardassians took family very serious and from what he had heard physical abuse was highly ostracized, but he wasn’t sure how it was dealt with. Plus there was the aspect of emotional and metal abuse and if Garak’s claustrophobia was anything to go by that was completely normalised. But then again it was absolutely possible that normal social rules had never applied to Tain and his household, so he tried not to jump to conclusion. On second thought maybe he should ask someone else about this.

Tomila at least seemed to have understood what he meant. She nodded and bowed her head a little. "But there was no one to be angry about today." she stated sounding downtrodden.

"There usually isn’t," Julian agreed. "Then the best you can do is keep going, do the best you can and never give up. You will sometimes loose patients, that’s inevitable, and sometimes you’ll feel incredibly helpless and it’s a terrible feeling when that happens, believe me, I know. You’ll feel like screaming and crying and like you’re betraying the trust people put in you, because you can’t do anything, even though you’re a doctor and you should be able to do something." He made a face. "It’s absolutely awful. But then I tell myself you can’t let them see how awful you feel about it. You can’t burden them with your feelings when they’re the ones who are suffering. So you put on a brave face and you do what you can to make it as easy for them as possible. You try to help anyway you can, even if that only means holding a bucket or taking away the pain."

He took a deep breath and looked at her from the corner of his eyes, trying to gauge if he had found the right words to get through to her. This was without a doubt the worst part of being a doctor. He had always hated the feeling of being helpless, useless. It stirred deeply rooted insecurities in him, the constant nagging doubt that if only he was a little better, a little smarter... that he should be smarter, better. Not being able to help someone always made him feel like a failure, but he also knew that it was an unavoidable part of his job. He just felt bad Tomila had to learn it so early on and he felt a little uncertain of his qualification as a teacher. Once more he became painfully aware of the responsibility and the demands that he was taking on with this. He had never intended to become a teacher and while he generally was happy enough to tell anyone who would listen just about anything about medicine, there were aspects of seriously teaching someone he wasn’t feeling overly comfortable with.

But she nodded and her jaw set in determination. "I’ll keep that in mind, Doctor Bashir," she said and he couldn’t help smile at her. She returned it tentatively and Julian felt that today had at least not been as bad as it could have been.

It was late, past sunrise when Garak came back. Julian was just updating Parmak on the events of his shift, much to the Cardassian’s obvious horror. "You should have woken us." he repeated over and over.

Julian tried to assure him that everything had always been under control as much as possible at least. The truth was that waking Parmak and Lysal would not have helped since they couldn’t have done much either. Once they had recovered from the surprise of the first rush and helpers had showed up everything had been more or less under control. You didn’t need a trained physician to give people water and the research Julian had done had been straight forward enough. Letting them get their rest after the exhaustion of last ta’ had seemed more important.

But he understood the other man’s unease with the situation. If this had happened on DS9 while he was CMO he would have wanted to be woken. It seemed that even after several months he was still not used to working under a supervisor again. He was lucky that Parmak wasn’t chiding him so much as simply expressing that he would have liked to help. The Cardassian was as always very accommodating to Julian, treating him much more like an equal than he had to, which Julian appreciated beyond his ability to put in words. It was largely due to Parmak and the trust the Cardassian doctor had put in him since day one, that he felt welcome as a medical professional in Torr

This time at least he had managed to justify Parmak’s trust in him and keep everyone alive.

Their conversation was interrupted when Garak breezed in with a solicitous smile that Julian knew hid all manner of danger.

"Good evening, Doctors," he said affably. "I apologise for the interruption, but I believe you have a patient in your care, one Isam Akor. I need to speak to him."

Julian frowned involuntarily and he could feel Parmak tense next to him. It was the way Garak spoke, superficially friendly, in the way Julian had learned meant he was up to something. And the way he was clearly not making a request.

"Akor is in room four," he said, because he was pretty sure Garak knew that already. "He had a pretty bad case, so I would recommend you keep it brief, if this can absolutely not wait until tomorrow. He needs rest." He made sure to put all his authority into his voice.

Garak nodded, but there was ice in his eyes that Julian hadn’t seen there since the death of Dukat. "I assure you Doctor, I prefer to be done with this as quickly as possible myself." He said amicably and Julian was certain they didn’t mean the same thing. But he was just as certain there was nothing he could do to stop Garak at this point.

"Fine." he said and went ahead to the room. He might not be able to stop Garak, but he’d be dammed if he let him loose on his patient alone while he was in that mood.

Garak didn’t seem to expect anything else, but was undeterred. He pushed into the small sickroom as soon as the door is opened.

Akor was not alone, a second patient, a small, thin woman, still looking sickly, was resting on an improvised cot. Julian had insisted on most of their patient staying in for observation and there weren’t nearly enough beds. Garak didn’t even seem to notice her presence. He marched straight to the prone figure asleep in the other bed and roughly shook him awake. The man looked at him bleary eyed, looking a little like a deer caught in the headlights at the sight of Garak.

"Ah, Akor", Garak greeted him almost jovially, a bright smile on his face. "I do hope you’re feeling better again. I have a few questions regarding your job fetching water for Katarak, for the additional rations with yesterdays dinner and today’s lunch. That was your task, wasn’t it?"

Akor tried to sit up while nodding. He looked startled and terrified. Garak continued to smile like he was trying to sell the man a particularly overpriced tunic. His eyes never wavered from Akor’s for a second.

"Wonderful. What basin were you supposed to take the water from?"

"Uh, basin 17." the man stuttered.

"And what basin did you take the water from?"

Akor gulped, blinking frantically, but managed to stammer "basin 17."

Julian had never in his life seen anyone look so guilty, not since Jake and Nog had last been caught by Odo playing a prank on someone. Years ago, when they were still unruly kids alone on a run down space station.

Garak’s smile widened a fraction and Julian couldn’t help thinking of a blade being unsheathed. His friendly tone never wavered.

"My dear Akor, as an experienced liar myself, let me give you a piece of advise. If you choose to lie, and I would never hold that against you, believe me, but when one lies, one must always be prepared to suffer the consequences. And in this case the consequences could be particularly unpleasant." By now his teeth were clearly visible behind his smile. "You see, the Doctor here has asked me to keep this conversation as short as possible, which means I will have to do whatever I can to get results quickly. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how inelegant things can become when you have to rush."

Seeing Garak like this was terrifying; Julian had never really realised how much. He had never seen Garak the interrogator before.

The scientific part of his brain catalogued fascinated that Garak didn’t even have to lift a finger. His reputation and his eyes did it all for him. He held the quivering man pinned in the laser focus of his icy blue glare and within less than a minute the words tumbled out of Akor’s mouth as if they had led weights attached to them.

Next to him Julian could feel Parmak shiver. Absently he wondered if this was similar to what Parmak had been through at the hands of the Obsidian Order. A part of him couldn’t help thinking he might have gotten off easily if this was all he had endured, no matter how terrifying Garaks glare was. Julian never knew the details of Parmak’s arrest and imprisonment. It seemed rude to ask, so all he knew was that the Cardassian doctor had been tried as a dissident and sent to a labour camp for five years. From their behaviour around each other, the way he barely ever meet Garak’s eyes Julian had sometimes wondered if Garak had been involved in his arrest. But he still never asked. At the same time he couldn’t help the fury that rose in him like bile at the confession that sputtered from Akor, who admitted amid a lot of terrified blubbering that he had taken the water from the tainted basin rather than the one he had been assigned to, which was several paces further from the town. All these people had nearly died and they had lost a lot of valuable resources because this guy had been too lazy to take a few more steps. It was only the fact that Akor himself had been among the people who had almost not made it and his convincing promise he hadn’t known about the dead vole that made Julian willing to swallow his anger and finally drag Garak out of the room again once it seemed to him he had all the answers he needed. He couldn’t quite bring himself to check up on Akor again and make sure he recovered form Garak’s onslaught. Instead he pushed his friend to visit Eltek, too while he was at the clinic and end the day on a more pleasant note.


	22. Chapter 22

It had been pathetically easy to figure out who had been responsible for the whole plight. All it had taken had been to work out who had supplied the sick people with food and water and then a short round of interviews with the persons in question. Garak’s suspicion had immediately focused on Akor, one of the few remaining of the old upper class. Before the bombardment he had been a medium high official within the Detapa counsel; now he had hardly any useful skills and Garak didn’t trust him, which was why he was often tasked with menial works such as getting water and supplies. He lasted barely a few minutes under interrogation before he broke. Garak tried to suppress a feeling of disappointment. He wasn’t that man anymore and the last thing he needed was to remind everyone, especially Julian of his past, but he couldn’t deny the faint thrill running down his back when he saw the man cowering before him.

He couldn’t quite suppress his disappointment when Julian dragged him away, but it didn’t matter, he had his answers.

The next morning he got up early, to catch Parmak before he went back to bed again, and managed to avoid Julian most of the morning. No, not avoid, he was simply busy if anyone should ask. He had a criminal to deal with after all. He didn’t have time to worry about the doctor’s delicate Federation sensibilities. He could only hope he would sound more convincing when he spoke this out loud than he did in his own head.

He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about the human having seen him interrogating Akor. He hadn’t hidden his past from Julian in a long time, but he knew there was a difference between knowing something intellectually and seeing it with your own eyes. So maybe he didn’t exactly relish the thought of seeing the way the doctor would look at him now that he had seen him like this.

So he spent the morning in conference with Parmak and a woman named Sural, a former gardener and one of the original inhabitants of the district. She was highly regarded by her neighbors and he had come to know her as a hardworking woman with strong, but eminently sensible opinions. She and Parmak were among the most trusted people of the district which was what had brought them into the position where he negotiated the further proceedings with them.

Their conversation concluded much like he had expected. Parmak reported that all patients were well on their way to recovery thanks to Julian’s efforts, although they were now running low on medication so another wave of cases should be avoided at all costs and they needed to order new supplies. They were also low on water now. Not dangerously so but Garak never liked not having a back up. Fortunately there wasn’t much ambiguity to deal with on the matter with Akor and he had come up with a solution he was actually quite proud of. Parmak gave him one of those long looks he sometimes had, when Garak knew he tried to remain objective, but in the end he concurred and by the time lunch rolled around they were ready to proceed.

"What will happen to Akor?"

Julian came up from behind him, thoughtfully stirring his lunch. Garak sighed. That was the other conversation he had been trying to postpone. He knew that Julian had strong opinions on the Cardassian legal system, especially since that incident involving Chief O’Brien. It was one of the things about Cardassia the dear doctor had never managed to grasp, his federation prejudice in regards to justice and right simply ran too deep.

"Well," Garak said, "we’ve established his guilt. We have a likely scenario, witnesses and a confession. Now comes the so’cil’eror."

As he had expected the human frowned, but it wasn’t a disapproving frown as much as a confused one.

"So’cil’eror." Julian repeated the unfamiliar word. "Something about truth?"

"A literal translation would be _the official sharing of the truth_ , but I think your translator tends to use the word _trial_." Garak replied.

There was the face he had been expecting; the twitch around the mouth and the narrowing of the eyes in disapproval.

"So I suppose there is a verdict already." he said harshly.

"Of course there is, otherwise there would be no point of having a so’cil’eror."

Julian nodded, but his face was still cold. "Who judges him?" he asked.

"As pur nim, it is of course my duty to uphold order in the district." Garak explained, "When I was elected, Parmak and Sural where chosen as seso’cil’mUjenkec to assist in cases when justice needs to be dispensed."

Julian thought over another new word. " _Servants of the truth_?"

Garak nodded. "The three of us have come to an agreement for a suitable punishment based on the crime, the guilty and our current circumstances."

"Should the person conducting the investigation be the person to judge, too?" Julian asked a little tersely.

"Ideally not, of course, but these are difficult times. We don’t have the luxury of an independent security force. I was the one best qualified to conduct the investigation regardless of my official position. But that is what the seso’cil’mUjenkec are for."

Julian nodded. He sat down heavily still fiddling with his stew.

"I still don’t get why you even bother with a trial if the result is already fixed." he said stubbornly.

"Because you still think of it as a Federaji." Garak replied, getting a little testy himself. Usually he appreciated exchanging different cultural standpoints with Julian, but they had been through this so many times and the human simply refused to understand that different systems worked differently and since the incident with O’Brien he tended to take it personally. This particular debate had seized to be titillating years ago. And right now it bore the potential for serious trouble, if Julian insisted on voicing his point of view tomorrow in public.

"Did you ever notice you use the same word for a court procedure as you do for a test?" Garak asked, "A so’cil’eror is no test, it is the presentation of results to the public. It is the last step in the process."

Julian took a breath, clearly ready to start arguing, but then suddenly stopped. That face, too, was one Garak knew fairly well. Something had just clicked in the doctor’s mind. "It’s the wrong word." he said after a moment.

Garak wasn’t entirely sure what he meant, but he was content to wait until Julian was ready to share. He had no doubt that he would once he had figured out what he had understood.

He was not disappointed.

"Sharing of the truth, you’re right, it’s not a trial; it’s a proclamation of the reasons of the judgement. It looks like a trial because you bring witnesses and rehash evidence, but it’s not. A Federation trial is part of the truth finding process, you examine different arguments and explanations, see if there were mistakes made in the investigation... but so’cil’eror comes after that. You’re not trying to find the truth anymore, you’re only presenting the evidence that led to the conviction. It’s a justification not a judgement."

Garak threw his arms up in a gesture of sarcastic jubilation. A part of him truly did cheer. After all these years he hadn’t dared hope anymore. But really if he had known all it would take was to give Julian the actual Cardassian word, he would have done so ages ago.

"That doesn’t mean the whole process isn’t fundamentally unjust though," Julian continued and Garak couldn’t suppress a groan, "It means the entire justice process is conducted behind closed doors, no objective oversight and no way for the defendant to actually defend themselves. Everyone in the system has a vested interest in finding them guilty." Julian continued.

"Of course there is oversight. Every government official is always held to the highest standards of conduct. And no one has a vested interest in convicting an innocent. If you do that it only means that the guilty party remains at large, harming the state further." Garak countered.

"And you accuse me of being naive! Please, that might be the theoretical ideal but we both know that in reality everybody has their own personal interests whether they admit to it or not. Everyone can be bought, blackmailed, threatened or simply be lazy."

"Ah, but are you really trying to argue that putting an innocent on trial, spreading out their entire life to be dissected in public and then to be judged by a group of random strangers with no legal qualification, is the better system?"

"That system hasn’t been used in centuries and you know it. And we at least tell our defendants what they’re actually accused of, before we pass judgement."

"Typical Federation naïveté. Tell people what they’re being interrogated about so they know exactly what to lie about."

They’ve had this discussion before, many times. But now that he felt Bashir had, at least to some degree, understood how the Cardassian system worked it felt as if there was new color to the argument, a new spark of life and after the last stressful days Garak allowed himself to enjoy a bout of shameless flirting with the man he loved. Julian initially seemed equally enthusiastic, but after a few minutes Garak couldn’t help notice that his conversation partner was not entirely focused on his arguments. Something else still seemed to weigh on him and finally he fell silent again.

"I hated watching you interrogate Akor yesterday." he said quietly after a moment.

Garak nodded. He had expected that. But there was never really any way he could have avoided it.

"I had to find the culprit beyond any doubt. We can’t afford anything like this happening again."

Julian nodded. "I know. It still felt wrong seeing it. I understand you had to do it, but I still wish you didn’t have to."

Garak reached over to the human’s hand and pulled it to his lips.

"Me neither." He said, for once entirely honest. He had been taken aback by how easily he had slipped back into the role of interrogator. It had been too easy for comfort, especially after what had happened the last time he had donned that particular hat. Thankfully Julian didn’t push the topic further, but Garak could feel his hands faintly tremble against his lips.

It wasn’t a gesture that Julian had introduced to their courtship yet, but in this instance he thought he could get away from it. From what he knew about humans, a kiss on the hand was considered less intimate than one on the mouth anyway. And at any case Julian didn’t pull his hand back.

The so’cil’eror was held on the large square where the supply transport stopped. It lacked a bit in stile and personnel compared to the grand televised so’cil’eror everyone had been used to before, but it was public and it largely followed protocol as much as possible under the circumstances.

Garak, Sural and Parmak stood on the stairs of on of the remaining buildings, a mansion owned by a previous member of the Detapa counsel if he remembered correctly, slightly elevated to overlook the square. It felt uncomfortably exposed, especially when a larger group of citizens gathered on the square to watch the proceedings. Garak had never had an issue with performing a role in public, but he preferred an audience of two or three people. Having the focus of a large group of people on him made him feel as if he had made a severe mistake somewhere. Having spent his entire life in the shadows and behind the scenes, the only role he had ever expected to find himself in at a trial was that of the accused. It seemed too unlikely to be the one delivering the verdict instead. He tried not to think about it. It was just another role, another performance to give, like all the other roles he had played for Cardassia before. He plastered a sufficiently lofty expression onto his face.

Akor was made to stand at the bottom of the stairs. It had been a slightly tricky decision, trying to balance the need for the judges to stand above the accused, while he had to be clearly visible to the audience. But they had decided that it was better to keep him in a lower position. There wouldn’t be enough people watching to obscure his presence anyway. They hadn’t quite expected that more than half the district would show up. It was a hint of normality in all the chaos, Garak assumed. One of the reasons for the so’cil’eror to be such a public event had always been to give people a face to despise and project negative emotions onto. It seemed the allure of that had not lessened in the last year and a half. Maybe Cardassia wasn’t as ready to change as the doctor thought. The thought both comforted and worried Garak. He pushed it aside for now. They had a legal case to present.

The younger Lakar had volunteered as Akor’s conservator. She didn’t have any legal training, but her father had been acheron, which was the best they could do and she did her job admirably considering. Akor repeated his confession with a lot more dignity than the previous night in the clinic. Garak made an effort not to scare the man. He had no intention of making an enemy or to make Akor’s life worse than necessary. He would still have to live in Torr after all.

Julian had to be called as a witness, to give a statement about the exact damage that had been done to the district. Garak had warned him about that at lunch. The Doctor hadn’t been overly happy about it, but had acquiesced, understanding the necessity of the statement.

Garak was pleased that he kept his statement short and simple while conveying all the important information.

Fortunately for everyone involved it was a simple case, the problem obvious and the evidence clear cut and without contradiction. Garak summed everything up for the audience:

"Isam Akor was lazy. He was assigned to take water from basin seventeen which was further away from town. He decided to take water from the tainted basin 24 instead. If he had taken the water from the basin he was supposed to not as many people would have gotten sick and on top of that it would have been easier to identify those at risk. His unwillingness to walk a few more steps has done considerable damage to the community. He has to be punished."

Garaks look was steely and he could see the Cardassians around him nodding. Julian was on the sidelines next to Oktar who had given a statement to Akor’s assignment. He wore a placid face and looked stoically ahead. Again Garak could tell the doctor wasn’t happy, but he had apparently decided it wasn’t his place to get involved. Just as well.

"In the old days he would have been sent to a labor camp for less." Garak continued. Again there was nodding, but also a murmur going through the crowd. Some changes seem to be more welcome than others, he thought wryly. He turned to the man cowering before them. "Fortunately for you we have enough labor here. And thanks to Doctor Bashir no one died due to your slothfulness. But we did waste a lot of water that we cannot spare. Twelve and a half pUndt to be precise that had to be given to patients out of the regular rations. I therefore suggest as your punishment that you relinquish one of your own water rations every day until the district has regained what was lost because of you. Doctor," he suddenly looked at Julian, "how many days is that?"

"One hundred and twelve point five." Julian replied before he had even fully understood what was going on. Garak nodded.

"And I trust it wouldn’t pose a severe health risk to have one ration less a day, even for this amount of time?"

"It’s not ideal, but as long as he remains healthy and we keep monitoring his liver function he will live," Parmak answered this question. "It should even get easier once we enter the rain season."

Garak nodded again. "I take it then you approve of the punishment, s'h'iosr'ha?"

Parmak didn’t hold his eyes. "It is adequate." he replied.

Garak turned to Sural. The old woman nodded. "It is adequate." she decreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit I always wanted to look a little closer at the Cardassian trial system, because I felt that we’ve been given only a very prejudiced view of it and I felt the obvious explanation for how different to what humans know it is was never even considered. 
> 
> so’cil’eror and seso’cil’mUjenkec I put together from several words in the EDK. This is where the grammar probably gets a little wonky.  
> They both have the same root-word: so’cil = truth.  
> In so’cil’eror we also have the verb eri’at ‘to share’ and ‘or which signifies an administrative centre, or in this case something official (okay that is probably a slightly liberal interpretation of the syllable).  
> mUjen means ‘to serve (voluntarily)’. I couldn’t find a word for servant, but the ending –kec usually denotes a profession or someone who does something. Se- is a possessive prefix (of the truth). 
> 
> Seso’cil’mUjenkec aren’t normally part of Cardassian court proceedings, they exist in this case because they don’t have the means to go through the proper proceedings. They’re kind of lay judges if you will.  
> Also humans did definitely abandon trials by jury by the 24th century because this system is rubbish.


	23. Chapter 23

Julian wasn’t sure if Garak was purposefully derailing his plans to not make a decision about his future on Cardassia for six months, or if he did it inadvertently. Theoretically Garak had no way of knowing Julian had made that plan, but something insignificant like that had never stopped Garak. In any case, it was merely one month and a half after his proposal, one week after the events that were now district wide referred to as ‘the water crisis’, that he started to press Julian a bit more forceful than before about his tutoring of Tomila.

He was of course right, Julian had had ample time to consider the matter and had de facto been tutoring the girl for over three months at this point. She was clever, determined and compassionate, and he had no doubt she could make a good doctor, her little breakdown during this recent disaster not withstanding. In fact he continued to be impressed with the ease she had bounced back from it and thrown herself into the work with renewed determination. He gave himself a tiny bit of credit for that, too.

In fact, Julian had the sneaking suspicion that the way he had handled that incident was what had made Garak decide to continue pushing. Even Parmak and Kalek had begun to make comments as if they expected it was already decided at this point. But Julian hesitated. He still shied away from the commitment and it didn’t help that he now felt as if the decision about Tomila was a proxy for his decision about Garak’s proposal. After all, if he decided to be Tomila’s te’aladik, which, according to his research, would demand that he remain on Cardassia and available to her for the next nine to ten years at least, his main concern about marrying Garak was all but moot. Not that that was the only concern, but still.

"What would she think about me, if I refuse?" he tried to assess his options one more time. He knew that Tomila was aware of Garak’s request to him. If he were in her place he’d be more than a little disappointed if he said no now and that was without considering what his other friends in the district would think of him.

"She will think nothing off it. It is your right to not take on this responsibility, no one will think any less of you for that." Garak assured him.

"Any less than they already do, you mean?"

Garak shook his head. "You know Cardassians take their duty very seriously, don’t you?"

Julian nodded. Duty and sacrifice, usually in the service of the state or family, were at the core of the Cardassian cultural ethos and self image, as far as he could tell. It had been a trope in virtually every book Garak had ever given him to read and it was present in some form in every Cardassian he had met over the last half year and even prior to that. The only exception had apparently been Akor who had neglected both when he had taken water from the wrong basin, which was why, as Kalek had explained to him very patiently, anything less than a strict sentence would have been seen as outrageous. Even Tain and Dukat had, in their own way, followed this code, even if they had managed to merge their own interests and those of the state to an inseparable unit in their own minds.

"Now do you imagine we could take our duties so seriously if they were foisted on us or that a sacrifice had only half as much meaning if making it was a forgone conclusion? Of course there are duties everyone has to adhere to simply be virtue of being a Cardassian citizen. But other than in our duty to serve Cardassia, which is of course a given, concerning any personal duty it is very much up to the individual to decide whether they want to take on such a responsibility, be it a marriage, a position, an education, or being a te’aladik. Once you have accepted a duty you are expected to fulfil it to the best of your abilities and take it serious, but the fact that you have accepted indicates that you have considered the implications, that you consider yourself able and that you are willing to do it," Garak explained. "If there were any social stigma attached to refusing to accept a responsibility, it wouldn’t be much of a choice and people would take on duties they are ill equipped for or have no real intention of following through, just because it was expected of them."

Julian nodded slowly. It made sense seen from that angle and it certainly explained a few things he had never been able to fully understand, like the apparently unconditional trust Garak had always put in the Cardassian governmental system, which went so unaccountably against his usual mistrust of everyone and everything. Julian had never understood how someone so cynical could seriously and full heartedly support a system that was based so entirely on the blind faith that those in power would do what was best. But it made more sense if you generally expected that everyone who decided to take on a job only did so if they intended to do the best they could and would always put the common good before their own. He tried not to snicker at the thought that Garak had called him naive more than a couple of times and yet trusted in such a highly idealistic system. But there was probably more to it that he didn’t know about. Something like ‘if you don’t fulfil your duty properly the Obsidian Order makes sure someone else gets the job, while you disappear without a fare well note’.

More to the point though, it would mean that he didn’t have to fear any repercussions if he refused to tutor Tomila. That was at least some weight off his chest. He still hadn’t decided, but the closer he got to Garak, the more appealing he found the option of making his stay on Cardassia more permanent than he had originally intended and if that was the case there was maybe no harm in integrating himself more in the community long term. Or at least medium term. He could use the te’aladik to familiarise himself with the idea of staying on Cardassia for the foreseeable future and maybe he could work himself to a point where he could think beyond that.

He also realised that ten years sounded much longer than it would probably turn out to be. It was barely longer than he knew Garak at this point and if he thought about it, most projections in regards to the rebuilding of Cardassia were made in decades. He had always known that this wouldn’t be a short term assignment. Rebuilding an entire planet from the ashes took time. The fact that the first year had brought only very basic progress underlined that. It would take at least several years to clear the atmosphere from all the dust, if they could even spare time and resources for that; there would be years spent in creating living space again, re-cultivating farmland and restoring power, communication and infrastructure. And through all of this there would still not be enough doctors until a new generation had grown up to be doctors, so either way he would likely have to stick around that long.

Garak interpreted his hesitation correctly as him digesting the information and considering further. "I imagine it would certainly improve your standing and that of the Federation if you do follow through with this commitment," he added, as if that thought had just occurred to him, "Especially if young Tomila should prove herself to be a worthy student."

"How does that contribute to letting me make my own decision?" Julian asked sceptically. All he saw was Garak adding more pressure to the choice.

"You can only make an informed decision if you consider all aspects of the matter." He seemed to take pity on the human. "I know you worry about your future here, my dear, but Cardassia will have a shortage on doctors until we have trained new ones, so if you indeed intend to stay here as long as you are needed, you will stay here that long at any case." he said, as if he had heard Julian’s own thoughts.

Julian hesitated for a moment. "What about you?" he asked.

"What about me?" Garak returned with an air of innocence Julian wasn’t sure he believed.

"Well, we’re talking a lot about my future, what about yours?" It was a question that recent events had brought into rather sharp focus for Julian. Seeing Garak investigating and interrogating Akor had stirred all kinds of unpleasant memories. He had always known that side of Garak existed but had told himself that now that there was no more war, no more Obsidian Order and no more Tain, Garak would be content to leave this part of his life behind him. Now doubt was rearing its ugly head.

"My future is, as you recently said so perceptively, here." Garak said unhelpfully.

"Here on Cardassia? Here in Torr? And in what form and capacity?" Julian insisted.

This time Garak hesitated. "As you said, my dear, the future cannot be predicted with absolute certainty."

"I’m not asking for certainty." Julian was not about to be satisfied with platitudes. The fact that Garak kept deflecting made his stomach contract with anxiety and he knew he couldn’t walk away from this conversation without some solid answers if he wanted to continue to have any kind of romantic relationship with the Cardassian. "I’m asking for your plans or hopes." he pressed.

"I try not to allow myself to hope. Hope has a very short half life time around here."

Julian rolled his eyes. He recognised that there was a degree of truth in that answer, but it was still only used to avoid answering properly.

"Could you just answer the bloody question?" he demanded, growing agitated.

Garak was clearly uncomfortable at being pressed. "I really don’t see the point." he evaded.

Julian took a deep breath gathering his patience. "The point is that if I’m supposed to make a decision about building a life here, I need to know what kind of life I’m supposed to expect. Do you want to remain pur nim here, do you want to rebuild the Obsidian Order, or maybe you intend to become a farmer or a politician or, or I don’t know, travel around the planet and build up libraries. If I am to be your partner, the choices you make about your life affect me, too. And if I’m to be Tomila’s te’aladik at the same time that is another factor I need to take into account."

"That is true," Garak conceded with a small head tilt. He didn’t continue for a while until Julian was almost convinced he wasn’t going to get an answer after all.

"The fact is that I haven’t quite decided either, and whether or not you do decide to stay here with me is a factor that will be a strong influence on me." He gave a rueful smile. "And there the vole hunts its own tale."

"But as you very well know, what you do or don’t do if I decline is of no relevance to this conversation," Julian pointed out, "If I decline your proposal, your decisions don’t concern me and verse visa."

Again Garak tilted his head in acknowledgement.

"Fine," he conceded, "regarding one of your, let’s call them suggestions: It will be years until Cardassia is in a place where we can maintain an intelligence agency in whatever form. I suspect that is the one you really want to know about, isn’t it?"

Julian didn’t bother confirming this but was glad none the less that Garak seemed to finally have decided to answer him at all.

Garak continued: "When," he held out a hand to forestall Julian’s protest, "when we are there, and if you do agree to become my spouse, I would be the least suitable person to be involved with this organisation. As I have told you, sentiment is the greatest weakness and even worse so if a sentimental attachment is publically known. Someone building an agency like that cannot be attached otherwise they would be far too vulnerable."

Julian thought about this and nodded his understanding. "Would you do it if I didn’t stay?" he asked.

"I thought my decisions if you decline don’t concern you," Garak replied with a sly smirk. Julian shot him a glare in response.

"Fine," he growled, "let me rephrase it then: Would you regret it?"

"Regret is a useless emotion, my dear."

"That’s not what I’m asking."

"I try not to regret anything."

"Also not what I’m asking." Julian persisted. At this point he couldn’t help feel as if this could be an issue that would make or break their relationship and he was determined to get an answer out of the stubborn Cardassian, no matter how long it took.

Garak seemed to sense that this was truly important for him and sighed deeply.

"I doubt it," he said quietly. "I believe my days in intergalactic espionage are well and truly over."

"Why?"

Garak gave Julian a tortured look. Must you ask? it demanded. Yes I do, Julian let his own eyes return. "Why?" he repeated.

The Cardassian heaved another sigh. "How much do you know about what happened between me and Odo when Tain took us to the Founder‘s home world?" he asked.

Julian frowned. This was not a direction he had expected this conversation to go.

"I red the official reports. You returned to Tain’s side, while Odo was a prisoner. You interrogated him but he never broke. Somehow he forgave you and still decided to rescue you while you tried to rescue Tain." he summed up, a little confused by the apparent change in topic, but certain Garak knew where he wanted this to go. "I always assumed something else happened you both left out of your reports. Whatever it was that made Odo forgive you. That let you become friends afterwards. Or whatever it was that you were to each other," he added carefully.

Gark nodded. "You’re right of course," he confirmed, "although..., " he hesitated, looking for words. Only now did Julian realise how extremely difficult it was for Garak to think back to those events. "What exactly was the wording in my report regarding Odo’s interrogation?" He asked after a moment.

He knew of course that, having red the report, Julian would be able to cite it word for word. He cast his mind back and let the words appear in his mind.

"‘Despite my attempts to convince Tain an interrogation was unnecessary and would likely not yield any result he insisted upon it, and insisted that I conduct the interrogation personally with the help of a device especially designed to question a founder,’" he began reciting, "‘I spent several hours with Constable Odo, but he did not render any pertinent information I could return to Tain.’" Julian turned the words over in his head, trying to find what Garak wanted to tell him. Normally he would have been frustrated by Garak giving him riddles again instead of simply answering the question, no matter what Cardassian etiquette dictated, but he sensed that Garak for once wasn’t doing it for fun or because customs demanded it, but because he couldn’t communicate what he wanted to say any better. Suddenly the pieces fell into place.

"You said he didn’t give up any _pertinent_ information, not that he didn’t give up any information," he looked at Garak’s face, which wore an uncommon expression. He looked guilty.

"He did break, didn’t he?" Julian whispered.

Garak straightened himself up and attempted to put on an indignant expression. "Of course he did." he said, but he couldn’t quite keep up the facade and then, all over sudden he stopped trying. The mask fell and Julian suddenly saw Garak the way he had only very rarely ever seen him: Full of shame and guilt.

"He did break, and he told me his greatest secret. Only he wasn’t the only one who broke in that room," Garak huffed a bitter laugh. Julian could only stare and listen. He had never known what had happened between Garak and Odo, but he had never thought it would have been anything like that.

"I broke him and he gave me his secret. And with those five little words he broke me. Five words were all it took in the end, but I was already close before. In the end I was begging him to just give in so it would be over. _I_ was begging for it to be over. Me, not Odo, _me_. I wasn’t the one being tortured; in fact I had everything I thought I had wanted for years. But I couldn’t even watch anymore."

For a moment he seemed caught in the tempestuous memories of that day. Then his eyes cleared and returned to Julian. "As you can see my dear, I am no longer fit to return to that kind of profession, and frankly I have no desire to repeat that day‘s experience." He made to pick up his food bowl which he had disregarded at some point during their conversation. "If you wouldn’t mind maybe we could discuss other options of my future some other day."

Julian couldn’t take his eyes off him. He had not expected such a confession when he had asked about Garak’s plans for the future. It moved him deeply, not only what he had heard, but also that Garak had been willing to tell him and open himself up that way. Yet there was still one question nagging him and he couldn’t not ask it.

"What did he say?"

Garak threw him a quick look before he concentrated on his bowl again. Julian almost missed the words when they came, so quietly were they whispered into the soup.

"‘I want to go home.’"

They stunned Julian to the core. It was immediately clear to him, both that Odo had meant home as, to his people, and what these words must have meant to Garak in that moment. His heart broke all over for his love and he genuinely hoped that at least some of the religions of this universe were right and there was some kind of hell in which Tain was currently suffering.

But there was something else he realised that moment. Never in his life had he felt about any place in the galaxy the way Garak and Odo felt about their home worlds, nor about any peoples as they did about theirs. It was true as he had told Garak that he had no personal attachment to earth although he liked the planet well enough. He loved the Federation of course; he loved what it stood for, its ideals, its many cultures, its openness and liberties. But this was an intellectual love, something his mind dictated him, but nowhere near the burning devotion Garak felt for Cardassia. Home for Julian had never been a place or a culture; it had always been people for him. When he had been younger, it had been the place his parents had taken him to, then the academy, where he had friends and Palis, and on DS9 again it hadn’t been the station, that rusty old thing that could turn into a death trap with the push of one wrong button, not even Bajor, as beautiful as the world was, once it recovered from five decades of occupation, but it had been his friends and colleagues, even Quark and Morn to a degree that had made the place home. Which was why the station had become less and less of a home when the people he cared for had left it.

And as a member of a multispecies society he was also less attached to his own culture or species. ‘His people’ where not just humans but all Federation people and he realised that to a degree that meant he didn’t have something that he considered ‘his people’ at all, at least not in the way Garak did. Being a known augment only cemented that. He knew he would never give up being a Federation citizen, neither in spirit nor in diplomatic terms as long as he had a choice, but living outside the Federation, even for an extended period of time that, he realised, he could do without regret.

"I’ll do it." he said, almost surprising himself, yet he was suddenly completely sure.

Garak looked up, startled at his sudden declaration. "You’ll do what?" he asked.

"I’ll be te’aladik for Tomila."

For a moment Garak scrutinised him, but then a wide, warm smile spread over his face. He put down his bowl and took Julian’s hands. "My dear." he said and it sounded more fond than Julian had ever heard him. Almost automatically he intertwined their fingers, making Garak gasp in surprise.

He captured his lover’s mouth in a kiss, all the while gently squeezing his hands, which drew a low moan from Garak. "I want us to spend ta’ together." Julian whispered, when they broke apart. Garak’s eyes where wide and his pupils blown.

"Are you sure, my dear?" he asked.

"I’m not accepting your proposal just yet," Julian qualified, "but I did just decide to spend at least the next decade here, so I don’t think you’ll have to worry I’ll just disappear from your life any time soon."

Garak seemed to contemplate that for a moment. He didn’t let go of Julian’s hands though and the doctor had to exercise serious self-control not to kiss him again.

"What if Starfleet calls you away?" Garak asked.

Julian grinned. He felt giddy, unaccountably happy and a ton lighter. "They won’t. But if they do, I’ll deal with it," he promised. "I won’t leave. I won’t run from this."

Garak kept looking at him as if he tried to discern the truth of his words from his eyes. Then he nodded and the wide, happy smile Julian had seen a few times over the last month and a half, returned to his face.

"Tell her." he asked.

Julian threw a glance at the sun, already a finger above the horizon. "Right now?" he inquired.

"Right now." Garak confirmed.

Julian laughed happily. "Sure, if that’s what it takes to convince you, let’s tell her, right now," he said, and scrambled to his feet holding a hand out to Garak to help him up. They grabbed their, largely empty, bowls and returned to the clinic hand in hand and both with almost the same giddily happy smile.

The smile on Tomila’s face when Julian offered her to be her te’aladik almost outshone Garak’s when Julian had told him. She barely managed the correct, polite reply and ran off to tell her friends, as soon as she had. Garak squeezed Julian’s hand in a congratulatory manner, which reminded Julian rather violently that he had somewhere to run off to himself. He turned to his lover, hopefully soon in every sense of the word, who looked at him with the kind of teasingly proud smile that signified that Julian had successfully passed some sort of test. He decided to kiss it off.

"It’s getting really hot out here." he whispered into Garak’s ear.

"Well, my dear, then we should really get you inside." the Cardassian replied and led him to a building across the square.

End of part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand that’s that. Thank you for reading, to everyone who left kudos and comments. I got some really amazing comments on this story and you guys have given me some much needed motivation to keep writing this, so thank you so much.   
> I’m planning to start posting part two some time early next year, maybe around February. Looking forward to hopefully see you then.


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